Are You Lonesome Tonight?
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: AU, 1959. Revolves around teenaged Rizzles: Jane fighting her attraction to Maura, and Maura, once she figures it out, trying to get her to go with it. Actions speak louder than words. Because I love a slow burn and the journey of figuring it all out.
1. Please Please Please

**A/N**: Well, here it goes. I wanted to try so hard to avoiding starting this story, but it will not leave me alone. Yesterday I spent nearly twenty minutes just listing ideas I want to use in this universe. I guess I just find studying sexuality in history very interesting, and I thought this one could be particularly intriguing. I'm sorry if the voyeurism in this chapter weirds anyone out; I admit I had Back to the Future in mind when I did it :)  
Anyway, I just thought this would be an interesting change from the slow burn in CJ. As I've mentioned/people have pointed out, there wasn't a real vocabulary for homosexuality in the 1800s, much less an opportunity to openly discuss or study it. Our perspective in the '50s was still fairly limited, but it was definitely more acknowledged and more widely known about/recognized for what it was than a century before. So I wondered how teenagers might wrestle with that here, especially with Jane's and Maura's established personalities.

* * *

The saddest annual day in any schoolchild's life is the final day of summer vacation. It was the end of late mornings and long nights, the end of weekday matinee movies and ice cream cones whenever you could scrounge up enough change. Tongues purpled by popsicles, teeth embedded with cobbed corn, and food-induced slumber would no longer be common. Welcome back schoolwork, welcome back homework, welcome back tests and dress shoes and skirts and hairpins. Welcome back school dances and pins and giggling girls. Goodbye freedom. Hello detention.

It was just after six in the evening, and Jane Rizzoli was trying to soak up as much final personal enjoyment as she could before dinner. She hated thinking of tomorrow, when she'd be back in loafers and a pressed blue dress, customary for school. Right now she was utterly comfortable in a pair of dirtied tennis shoes, three-quarter length denim pants with a hole in the knee, and a sweater from her uncle's alma mater. It'd been three days since she'd washed her hair, and she thought keeping it pulled scraggily back would keep her mother from noticing that fact.

At the moment, she was playing a game of basketball with her younger brother Frankie in the driveway. Though Jane towered over him, their scores were tied, because she couldn't bring herself to thoroughly beat him on a regular basis. Even little brothers had pride, and the chance at winning a game against his supremely athletic sister every once a while gave him a tremendous boost.

"Game point, and the crowd goes wild!" he said through deep breaths, dribbling around Jane. She had to smile at his tendency to provide commentary for their games, which he often seemed to do without even being fully aware of it. "Rizzoli versus Rizzoli—"

"Eat your heart out, NBA!" Jane laughed.

"He goes up for a basket—fakes it—"

Frankie pivoted, and not realizing Jane was already behind him on his right, shifted hard and fast to take a shot. She yelled out in pain when his elbow collided with her nose, and the ball dribbled away as he hurriedly apologized. Jane professed to be fine, but the blood pouring of her nose proved otherwise, and Frankie ushered her into the house, offering tips—"hold your head up!" "Let's get some ice on it!"—as he got the door. He reached up to touch her nose, and she slapped him away with a scowl. He ran to the kitchen to get her a hand towel, which she proceeded to hold up to her nose.

"Frankie, where are you going with my nice towel?" (Jane was not pleased to see their mother, Angela, had walked back with Frankie). She yanked the towel out of Jane's hands. "AH! What happened?! How do you _always _manage to get into scrapes like this before Sunday dinner, and turn it into a circus?"

Somewhat incredulous that she was the only one being addressed, Jane asked, "_Me?_"

Angela whipped the towel at her. "Yeah, you!"

"It was my fault, I did it," Frankie said, though he dodged any further questioning by running to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"It was his fault!" Jane agreed, pointing out to him.

"Nonsense, Frankie!" Angela called. "I know you didn't mean it!"

"So this is _my _fault?" Jane asked in disbelief.

With the air of one who was vastly tired of repeating herself, Angela said, "_Look. _I tell you all the time: don't roughhouse with him!" She sighed heavily when Jane only nodded and rolled her eyes, grabbing the already-bloodied towel back to clean up her face. "Your father didn't fix a hoop to the garage for _you _to go around like one of the boys, Jane!"

"Oh right, I forgot it's just for Tommy, in case he don't ever do good in school, and all he'll have to fall back on is his lousy basketball playing."

"Where _is _that boy, anyway? I told him to be home by now," Angela said absently, using a much more reverent tone than she did whenever Jane dared break a rule. "Dinner will be ready soon! Jane, go find him, will you?"

"Of course," Jane grumbled. "I'm nothing if not my brother's damn keeper."

Angela snatched the towel out of Jane's hand and whipped it hard against the counter. "When you get back with your brother, young lady, you'll have soap for an appetizer."

Jane groaned but said nothing, walking to the washroom herself to get rid of the bloodstains. The only comfort she took was that at least in the realm of what her mother called "salty language," she and her brothers were treated entirely equally—which was to say, there was never room for any forgiveness. Frankie was drying his hands as Jane stalked into the room, leaned over the sink and started to rinse her face.

"Want a tip?" Frankie whispered. "You know that kid Tommy's been hangin' out with a lot from the next neighborhood over?"

"Oh yeah," Jane grunted, taking another towel from Frankie to wipe her face. "What was that pansy's name… Sumner?"

"Yeah, Sumner Fairfield. He said about four hours ago that's where he was gonna be all day."

"Know where he lives?"

"No, but you could look 'em up in the phone book."

Sighing, Jane left the washroom to do just that, feeling (as she frequently did) that she deserved a salary for being the oldest sibling in this family. Angela had always been on her case about striving to be more ladylike, something Jane had apparently fought straight from the womb. She hated her lack of independence, and vowed that as soon as she was legally her own citizen, she would live life her own way—not that, at seventeen, she wasn't pushing the envelope already.

Angela had picked out a nice bicycle with ribbons attached to the handlebars and woven basket attached to the front for Jane to use, and it was rarely taken out of the garage. Tonight, Jane borrowed Frankie's and took off in the direction of what the kids called "Snob Hill."

Jane hadn't ever actually been to this neighborhood, even though she attended school with kids who lived here. She found herself slightly intimidated by the large, looming estates, all of them sprawling with beautifully-kept lawns and only the nicest, newest cars in the driveways. The bike felt cheap and rusty beneath her as she anxiously wheeled herself to the Fairfield home, and she laid it awkwardly on the curb next to a pruned bush, hoping it wouldn't attract too much attention there. For a moment she considered ringing the doorbell, but for once in her life, Jane bowed to fear: she would be embarrassed to approach whoever lived in this house with her torn clothes and dirty face.

So, she walked stealthily around to the backyard, where she was sure Tommy and Sumner would be playing soccer or throwing a football or something. To her surprise, the yard was empty, and she glanced nervously around for any sight of them. It would be dark soon, and she didn't feel like biking up and down town with a megaphone to call for them. Then, squinting to the house just south of the Fairfields', Jane thought she recognized Tommy's bike leaning against the fence. She walked over to investigate, then heard some giggling that definitely sounded like her brother. Why did it sound like it was coming from overhead?

_Oh, __hell__ no_.

"Tommy Rizzoli!" she hissed.

The giggling was replaced by a loud gasp, and Tommy looked down at her from the tree he had climbed, binoculars in hand. She gestured broadly for him to come down, and he glanced around as if hoping to find another option. Finally succumbing to the inevitable, he looped the binoculars carefully around his neck and started the perilous climb down, moving as slowly as possible.

"Hi, Janie!" he chirped, giving her his best innocent expression.

"Uh-uh, Tommy. Ma might fall for that angel act of yours, but you ain't gonna fool me. You were peeping at some girl, weren't you?"

"No!" Tommy said, waving his hands as if no notion could be more disgusting to him. "No way!"

Jane folded her arms. "Oh, _really?_ So what, pray tell, were you looking at?"

"Um—uh—it was a, uh… a picture show!" Tommy said desperately. "Sumner said the family here likes to screen movies with a projector they've got, and this one was real funny, ha, ha!"

"Oh, I bet." She yanked the binoculars off Tommy's neck and held them high up, smirking when Tommy leapt to try and grab them back. "You won't mind if big sis takes a look then, will you? I mean, if it's just a funny picture show…"

"Ma's gonna want us home for dinner though!" Tommy said. "Boy, we must running late already!" And he ran off, grabbing his bike and pedaling down the street as fast as he could so he could be the first one home. Jane just rolled her eyes, knowing that the baby of the family was Angela's favorite and could usually get away with the most. Even if she told Angela that he'd been doing something wrong, she was likely to side with him and accuse Jane of trying to get her brother in trouble.

_Still, though…if it was something as bad as peeping at a girl, she might take it seriously…_

Before she knew it, Jane found herself scaling the tree, binoculars around her neck. Even if it came down to just being her word against Tommy's, she wouldn't feel properly slighted without at least being able to say honestly that she _had _caught him in the act.

She considered herself fairly in shape, so it was a little odd to reach the limb Tommy had been on and suddenly feel breathless.

The window into which he'd obviously been peering was in the next yard over, and a teenage girl was towel-drying her hair. Jane's mouth fell open and she scrambled to press the binoculars to her eyes, straddling the branch and moving as far out as she dared.

The girl had another towel tied securely around her, but it was apparently quite small, barely reaching her thighs and barely covering her breasts. Jane figured a record had to be on, because she was swaying slightly as if to a beat as she shook out her hair. Pink lips parted frequently enough for Jane to imagine she was mouthing lyrics to something, and when she licked her lips, Jane unconsciously mirrored the move. Finally the girl stood still, reaching for a brush and combing it through her hair. Jane lowered the binoculars slightly, and saw that she could count every freckle on the girl's chest, just above the edge of the towel.

And then came what she would soon realize was her first ever involuntary thought: _c'mon, honey, drop that towel a little …just a little… please…_

But rather than comply with Jane's telepathic communication, the girl actually walked out of view, and Jane swore under her breath. She was lying flat-out on the branch now, twisting from left to right in an attempt to get a new angle on the window. A minute in change passed and she was about to get down when she nearly fell out of the tree anyway because the girl reappeared in front of the window, towel gone.

She was wearing a knee-length pink skirt but no top, and her back was to the window. Jane clamped her mouth shut, feeling its dryness spreading out from the roof, and she squirmed further down the branch. At the moment, she was oblivious to the pain of digging the binoculars so close into the skin by the bridge of her wounded nose, not to mention the rings it was burning around her eyes. Never had she seen anything so enchanting as this girl's back, the way her muscles played as she stretched and shifted to start braiding her hair. She was all peaches and cream and gentle curves and alabaster skin—

And then came Jane's second involuntary thought: _turn around turn around turn around turn around for the love all that is good and Holy in the world TURN AROUND_

Her wish was halfway granted, as the girl turned to exit Jane's voyeuristic view yet again. This time Jane knew to wait, although still not very patiently. When the girl was visible again, she was fully dressed, wearing a white shirt to go with her skirt (and very plainly, a brassiere beneath that top). As it transpired, though, she was not quite as fully dressed as Jane had initially believed.

Binoculars trained on the girl's exquisite face, Jane saw her mouth form the familiar words, "coming, mother!" and she hopped slightly. Jane moved her view down to see what kind of shoes this gorgeous creature was putting on, but that wasn't what she was hopping into: Jane nearly fell out of the tree again as she watched two delicate, manicured hands pulling some white panties up her legs. She moved so fast that her hands slipped under and back out of her skirt's hem in what had to be record time, and Jane no doubt also missed it because she was having trouble keeping the binoculars steady.

The girl smoothed her skirt and walked out of the room, hitting the light on her way out.

Jane wasn't sure how long she sat in the tree afterwards. She was aware of the burning between her legs only when she realized she was rocking gently back and forth against the rough bark of the thick branch beneath her. Nervously she hurried to get back to the ground, jumping down once she had gone far enough. The binoculars swung around her neck as she fought to stay balanced on her feet, and only then did it register with her that nobody in her family owned binoculars—these must have been someone else's. Figuring Tommy had borrowed them from the Fairfields, Jane left the item slung around their mailbox before grabbing her bike and gunning it back home.

Realizing quickly how sensitive her crotch felt, Jane rode most of the way without sitting fully down on the seat of the bike. Though her pants were covered in sticky sap from the tree, that did not account for the substance she felt at the apex of her thighs. Jane might not get stellar grades in school, but it didn't take an egghead to figure out what this all meant.

_She had wanted to see that girl naked._ All of her. Not from curiosity, not from envy, from pure and adulterated lust. Her heart was racing, sweat had made the hair closest to her forehead curl in the summer breeze, and just—her brain would not stop conjuring images of that girl!

_Oh God, if Ma could see into my head right now, she'd hook a tube into my ears and pump soap into it all night. _

When she got home, she decided to let Tommy sweat a little to see if she'd rat him out. Ultimately deciding it would be hypocritical to do so, she remained quiet about the issue, and went to bed shortly after dinner.

"But honey, the game's on!" said her dad (who, incidentally, had intervened on her behalf and asked Angela not to wash out her mouth as a final summer present). "Don't you wanna watch it with me and the boys?"

"Not tonight, Pop," Jane muttered. She kissed him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

"Knock 'em dead, sweetheart!" he said with a grin, bumping his fist under her chin to make her smile. "Can you believe it, Ange? Our girl's gonna be a senior!"

"Time does fly," Angela sighed, clearing the dinner table as Frankie and Tommy hurried to turn on the television.

"Sure does. Summer was gone like that," Jane said, snapping her fingers. "Tell me about the game in the morning?"

"You got it, kiddo."

As Jane got ready for bed, she started to rationalize to herself: that thing with the girl was just a fluke. Maybe Ma was right, maybe she _did _roughhouse with the boys too much. Yeah. Maybe she'd just automatically adopted the mindset Tommy must've had in that tree. What was so wrong in thinking other girls were beautiful? Girls _were _beautiful. Nothing wrong with that. She shrugged and turned off the light, getting into bed.

Lying in the dark, it occurred to her: maybe she was a girl version of that guy her dad had been in the army with, the one he called a queer. A fairy. One night a few years back, she'd snuck downstairs to get a drink of water when she woke up from a nightmare.

_Her mother was out with some girlfriends, and her dad was playing cards in the sitting room with some old buddies from the army. Cigar smoke weaved its way into the kitchen, mingling with the deep, masculine laughs as Jane got her glass of water and returned to the stairs. She'd sat there on the bottom step for a while to listen, smiling as she heard the men reminisce about and recount their bravery and the valor they had witnessed. Then-_

_"Say Frank."_

_ "Yeah?"_

_ "Whatever happened to that bum, that uh… that guy Del Rossi?"_

_ Frank snorted. "That fairy?" Jane frowned in confusion; she'd never heard that term used to refer to a man before. The other men sounded interested, and Frank elaborated: "I saw that fruit Del Rossi in a fox hole porking some German civilian."_

_ "Another man?"_

_ "Whaddya think, fairies are normal and go for girls? Yeah, it was a man!"_

_Sounds of general disgust. "You report him?"_

_ "Course I did! You think it's safe trusting your life in the hands of a fairy? I'm surprised he could even hold up a rifle with those weak arms!" The other men laughed, and Jane figured she was supposed to smile, too. "And I mean, I __hope__ that German queer was a civilian! Can you imagine if they had spies to get intel from our fairy boys? It's why we don't let women in the army, either; you'd have 'em_ _turn Benedict Arnold the first time they saw a handsome man in uniform."_

_ "Disgusting," one man muttered._

_ "I'll say. Anyhow, I ain't seen him since the war. Never kept in touch. Why should I?"_

_ "Just curious."_

Jane had never admitted to overhearing this conversation, and she frankly hadn't thought about it much until now other than to briefly share in her father's disgust at two men being intimate together. It just seemed creepy. So why didn't it feel as creepy to her that she was feeling physically attracted to another girl? She'd felt physically attracted to boys too, right?

_Of course I have! That fairy in the army probably never even kissed a girl._

All in all, it was not a restful night.

As she headed for school the next morning, Jane resolved to stick to her father's motto: don't give into fear. She'd never found women particularly attractive before; why worry about it now? Maybe all girls went through a phase like this. They seemed to be closer and more physically affectionate with each other than boys did. That probably factored in there somewhere. It had to.

The denial was only barely working, and Jane was loathe to admit to herself that it probably wouldn't take much to bust it. Just seeing the girl again would probably be enough to burst the argument she'd been building—and unfortunately, a chance meeting happened much sooner than she'd have liked.

Her home period teacher, an old spinster by the name of Ms. Winifred, stopped Jane with a ruler when the girl tried to walk to her desk. "Ah, ah, ah, Ms. Rizzoli."

"What?" Jane whined, looking down to make sure all her clothes were school-appropriate. They were.

Ms. Winifred shifted the ruler dangerously close to Jane's bruised nose. "What happened here?"

"It was yesterday. I didn't do nothin' on school grounds."

"I should say you certainly seem to _do nothing _on school grounds," Ms. Winifred said in a haughty voice, eliciting some laughter from Jane's classmates. "Unless you count loitering and ruining your perfectly nice clothes."

"Can I sit down, please?" Jane asked with a scowl. "_Ma'am?_"

"You may go see the nurse," Ms. Winifred replied, handing her a note. "I don't care to have it on my conscience that you went a full day without having that attended to."

Jane snatched the note and stalked back down the empty hallway, books held loosely by her side. She turned a corner to see the principal going on his morning inspection around the school; he cleared his throat, and she lifted the books more demurely to her chest as he passed. Going down the staircase to the nurse's office, Jane made her footsteps fall as loudly as possible.

_Everything's always my fault… Frankie elbows me in the face, my fault. The bus is late, my fault. Tommy doesn't come home on time, my fault. I oversleep 'cause of dreams, my fault! _

As far as Jane was concerned, the person responsible for most of her torment right now was that girl she'd seen yesterday. She'd kept her up all night, making her question herself, making her worry, making her doubt. Jane did not like dents in her confidence. Ma she could argue with, teachers she could roll her eyes at—but this? It was different, it was strange.

She opened the door to the nurse's office, and there was that girl, sitting next to the desk. They made eye contact, and Jane felt herself blushing. Her lip curled as she attempted to fight it, as she _did _fight it. Sure this girl looked like an angel with her smooth skin, her honey-colored hair, her hazel eyes.

But underneath that innocent outer layer was somebody who had made Jane Rizzoli doubt herself, and that could not go without retribution.

* * *

**A/N**: Don't worry, Jane won't be a total ass for this whole story. I just thought she was the type who might try blaming her confusion on the person who instigated it, not on herself. She'll learn pretty quick that Maura doesn't deserve to be treated like a jerk.  
Questions, comments? Always appreciated.


	2. I've Got You Under My Skin

Maura Isles was perhaps the only schoolchild in existence who dreaded the start of school because she felt it put a limit on her learning.

For her fifteen years of life she had so far experienced, travel and living abroad were all she knew. Summer vacations were filled with day-long excursions studying the works at the Louvre, the Uffizi Gallery, the Tate; practicing her French as she wandered along the Champ-Elysees, trying her hand at following along to Spanish music she heard at the Palau de la Música in Barcelona. She might drop by to hear a sermon at the Bevis Marks Synagogue and then pop over to St. Paul's the next day. If she was lucky, her mother might allow to her to spend some time with her in her Parisian studio, and maybe her father would take her along for a lecture in Zagreb.

The world was a beautiful place. It was just too lonely for Maura's liking.

In a museum, she could just be a tourist dropping by for one day, maybe her friends had all wanted to go someplace else. On Portobello Road, maybe she was by herself because she was shopping for gifts and didn't want to spoil the surprise. As the stranger in a congregation, maybe she was just trying to find something to believe in and oh, we hope maybe she'll find her faith someday.

But at school, she was that strange, studious girl who had no friends. No mystery surrounded her, because mystery implied something somebody was interested in solving. She never got jokes, she never got slang, she didn't own posters of her favorite movie stars—none of whom worked in Hollywood, anyway.

At school her learning was confined to a classroom, black-and-white maps, and uncomfortable chairs. Instead of helpful museum workers or cheerful tourists, she had impatient teachers and classmates who mocked.

As her first year of high school dwindled to a close, she could only wait with bated breath to find out where she and her parents would be spending the summer this year. Maybe Paris again, maybe Prague. Maybe some place _really _exciting and new, like Nigeria or China or Brazil. She still loved Europe, of course, and knew that there was still plenty to see, but there was so much _more _of the world that she had yet to personally discover. When she asked at dinner one night with an air of casualness where the summer might take them, her parents exchanged a look.

"Shall you tell her, Desmond, or shall I?" Constance asked.

"Tell me what?" Maura asked instantly, looking back and forth between them.

Smiling a little at his daughter's excitement, Desmond replied, "This all might seem a bit sudden to you, Maura, but I know my girl's always up for anything. You're brave and you're always excited about exploring new things. I'm very proud of you for that."

"Are we…moving to the arctic?" Maura asked.

Her parents chuckled politely at the attempted joke, before her father said, "You know I grew up in Boston, Maura. In Massachusetts, in the United States? I was offered a teaching job at BCU, the old alma mater, and well…" He took a deep breath. "After much consideration, your mother and I have decided to move to Boston for the foreseeable future."

Maura didn't respond to this right away. She stared at her father for quite some time, prompting Constance to reach across the table for her hand and ask whether she was all right. "I'm fantastic," Maura finally said in a weak voice. "I'm—I'm wonderful!"

"Really?" Desmond asked.

She laughed in relief. "Yes! Oh yes, oh how fascinating—_Boston! _Think of all the modern history there!" (Modern to her, of course, being less than two centuries old.) "It's the birthplace of President John Adams, John Quincy Adams, and Calvin Coolidge—oh, but not just political history; Louisa May Alcott was born there, as well! Maybe I could see her house!"

"Maybe you could," Constance said, grinning at Maura's enthusiasm. "And, ah, maybe you could try…"

The change of Constance's tone worried Maura a little. "Try what?"

"We were unable to secure a spot in a private school, unfortunately," Desmond said. "But as it transpires, a good friend of mine I made in the war is the administrator over one of Boston's most highly esteemed public high schools, and I've struck a bargain with him. He's good friends with the Faulkners, you remember them? Anyway, I told him you were the one who saved their boy from choking last summer when nobody else had a handle on what to do, and he thought that was mighty impressive! So he has agreed to let you spend your breaks in the nurse's office instead of study hall."

"Really?" Maura gasped.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"I have a condition, Maura," Constance said, cuing both her daughter and husband to look at her curiously. "I want you to try and make friends at this new school."

Maura's smile fell. "You think I don't try?"

"_Do_ you?" When this garnered no response, Constance said, "Give the other kids a chance, darling. They'll see what a fine girl you are."

That night, Maura had fallen asleep wondering if she could convince any teenagers in Boston to go to a symphony by the Pops rather than spend the night in front of a television set, which was what she heard most of the kids in America did these days.

On the first day of school, she had been instructed to check in with the nurse during home room to get acquainted. She had expected that they would be alone, as surely nothing could happen this early in the day, when a tall, tanned girl stumbled in. She looked from the nurse to Maura, and Maura could swear she saw recognition dawning in her features. And… was she blushing?

The nurse interrupted her thoughts by sighing loudly with affectionate exasperation. "This has to be some kind of record for you, hasn't it, Calamity Jane?"

"Aw, you know you missed me this summer, you old broad," Jane snorted, wincing as she touched her nose. "Look, Winnie sent me down here t—"

She was nearly knocked over when a boy came barreling into the nurse's office. "Mrs. Adams, come quick! Pete Smith fell don't the stairs and he can't move his leg!"

Mrs. Adams jumped to her feet and ran over to the door. "Maura?" she said. "Get some ice for Jane's nose and then send her back from whence she came!"

Jane waved sarcastically as the nurse left, then turned and shrugged at Maura. She wished like hell that her dress had some pockets she might stuff her fists into; as it was, she had no idea what to do with her hands. One at least was occupied in clutching her books, but the other hung uselessly by her side. She cleared her throat, and Maura (_nice name, I guess_) quickly got to her feet.

"Hi! I'm Maura Isles," she said brightly, holding out her hand.

Jane glanced down at Maura's hand, back at her face, then brushed past her. "And I'm here for some ice, apparently."

Maura let her hand drop, but refused to be deterred so quickly. "I could probably pop that back into place for you," she said, following Jane back to the desk.

Jane turned and raised an eyebrow. "How d'you mean?"

"It's a hairline fracture," Maura said, looking closely at Jane's nose. "The nasal bone above the nasal lateral cartilage."

"Pee-yu, what?"

Maura hurried to explain, "Don't worry, it's not disfiguring." She studied Jane's face a little longer, and when she dared attempt to make eye contact, she was surprised to see that Jane was staring at her. Jane's gaze quickly shifted once she realized she'd been caught, and Maura asked, "Do I have something on my face?"

"No."

"Then why were you studying me like that?"

_Because holy hell your face is just as gorgeous as the rest of you_. "Oh gee," she drawled. "Because you really send me!"

Maura's brow furrowed in confusion. "Send you where?"

"Really? C'mon, it's… you know, like a saying? I was just joking."

"What's it mean?"

"Never mind," Jane scoffed. "Look, can you fix this thing or not?"

Frowning slightly, Maura said, "Okay, it might hurt a little." Jane only rolled her eyes and shrugged again. But her eyes were drawn involuntarily back to Maura's face as the girl gently took Jane's chin between delicate fingers, as if surveying the best way to go about this. She traced her fingers to the left ide of Jane's jaw (where Jane prayed they would stay, not going lower for a pulse point, where Maura would surely feel her pulse hammering along). She indeed let her fingers rest here as she raised the index finger of her other and to the bridge of Jane's nose. Maura was too focused on this task to notice that Jane's eyes were staring directly at her concentrated hazel ones, but then they were both pulled out of their respective reveries by the loud cracking noise that was Jane's bone being shoved back into place.

"OW!" Jane cried, taking a step back. It was the sound that had startled her more than anything else, but it still hurt. "A _little?!_"

Afraid she had misjudged the pain it would involve, Maura briefly panicked; but rather than deal with it, she turned on her heel and walked towards the cooler in the corner of the room. "You'll want to have ice on that, probably for the next twenty-fours hours," she said, opening the cooler and getting a small towel to wrap around some ice. She headed back to Jane with it. "Or you'll start to look like Sugar Ray Robinson."

Jane's scowl instantly vanished to be replaced by an impressed grin. "You like boxing?"

Maura smiled, thinking maybe she made some progress, wishing desperately she could lie and say that yes, she loved boxing. As it was… "Well, I can't say I have much familiarity with it myself, but my father is quite fond of it. I'm afraid he hasn't any sons to discuss the sport with, so every now and then he'll drag me over to listen to bouts over the radio with him. Sugar Ray is one of his favorites."

"Well, yeah!" Jane laughed. "He's only the greatest boxer to ever exist."

"Can you say that so categorically?" Maura asked seriously.

"Hey, what's your deal, anyway?" Jane chuckled. "I mean you're new, aren't you? How come you're here instead of home room? You don't look sick."

Maura launched into an explanation about her arrangement with the school nurse, then closed by saying, "This will actually be my first time going to an American school—and my first coed educational experience as well, now that I think about it. I've grown up attending girls' academies in France."

Jane raised her eyebrows. She wondered for a moment how she would fare in an all-girls school herself, whether there were students who were happy not to have to share classrooms or quarters with any boys in sight. "So is it true what they say about French girls?" she asked.

"What do they say about French girls?" Maura inquired innocently.

"You know," Jane said suggestively, raising and lowering one shoulder. She took a step closer to Maura, who accidentally backed up into the nurse's desk. "I hear you cats in Europe really let loose."

"W-well, we—I mean they—don't stem from the same Puritanical societies that Americans do, so th-they sort of… are…"

Maura wasn't sure if that was a smirk or a full-on sneer unfurling on Jane's face. All she could tell was that she was starting to blush, and she wasn't sure how she was meant to interpret the fact that Jane's eyes were sweeping slowly up her body.

And there, Jane thought she caught it: this girl's weakness. She was red, deep red, and looking flustered as hell. Maybe she was squeamish about sex, maybe a girl at her school had made a move on her before and it had made her uncomfortable—whatever it was, it was currency Jane could bank on to use to her advantage. She herself was bold and brash; this girl seemed quiet and respectful. And yet she had brought out a harrowing insecurity in Jane that Jane hadn't even known existed until last night, and so help her, she didn't care if Maura _was _innocent: she was going to make the new girl feel just as out of sorts as she had made Jane. Difference being that this was Jane's turf they were on now, so unlike last night, she had home-court advantage.

"First rule of an American coed school?" Jane asked huskily. She slammed the ice down on the table next to Maura's hand, causing Maura to jump slightly. Jane's fingers brushed against the back of Maura's hand. "It's survival of the fittest out here." The bell rang, and Jane took a step back, picking up her books from the chair she'd dropped them in earlier. "Good luck, cutie."

"Wait!" Maura called out, grabbing her satchel and following Jane out the door. "Please, can you help me? I didn't get a chance to ask Nurse Adams—do you know where Ms. Green's class is?"

Jane rolled her eyes and sighed, as if this was the most aggravating question she had ever been asked. "Up that staircase, take the first l—"

Students had started milling around them, and they were interrupted by a boy who came running up and put his arm around Jane's neck. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and Maura saw a grimace pass over her features. "Hey, Frog-face!"

"Joey, a summer abroad didn't help with your charm, any?"

"Maybe not, but I got somethin' better. A motorcycle."

Jane's eyes went wide with genuine interest. "Gee whiz, Joey, no kiddin'?"

Steering Jane down the hallway, he asked, "Would I kid about something like this?"

Which left Maura looking forlornly after them.

Fortunately, she wasn't left alone for long. Tommy Rizzoli spotted her when he was coming out of his home room, and recognizing her immediately, he made a beeline for her. All he had seen through the window last night was Maura in an extremely concealing bathrobe, sitting in front of her mirror removing her makeup. She had left Tommy's view and he saw the robe get tossed in front of the window. When Jane had caught him, he'd been giggling in anticipation of her return, not realizing she had since stepped into a shower. But gosh darn if she didn't have one of the loveliest faces he had ever seen, and one that was clearly in need of a knight in shining armor.

"Hi!" he said brightly.

She whisked around to see what kind soul had stopped, and she smiled gratefully. "Hello!"

"You look lost. Need some help?"

"I do, actually. I'm trying to find Ms. Green's room."

"Perfect! That's where I'm going! Just follow me."

Responding immediately to his chipper persona, Maura fell into pace next to him, and followed him up the stairs. "Thanks for helping me out. This is my first day. I mean I know it's the first day of school, but it's my first day at _this _school. I just moved here."

"Neat! Just you, or have you got any siblings here?"

"No, it's just me. I'm an only child."

"Lucky!" Tommy groaned. "I've got a brother and sister. Frankie's okay, but Jane can be a real pain in the a—uh, in the rear sometimes. You should be glad you're alone."

"Well, I'm used to it anyway," Maura said, her glumness going unnoticed by Tommy.

Once they reached the classroom, however, he did notice that she looked a little nervous. "Hey," he said. "You got anything going on after school?"

"I have to meet the principal with my parents. But after that, I should be available."

"You like chess?"

"I love it!"

"I figured, somehow," Tommy said with a laugh. "If you want, you could come over to my place and play a game or two …after getting Green's first assignment out of the way, that is."

"Really? I'd love to do that!" Maura said eagerly. "Thanks—uh, I'm sorry, I didn't even ask for your name."

He was already writing down his address to give her. "Tommy Rizzoli. Nice to meet you—?"

She smiled and took the slip of paper, formally shaking his hand. "Maura Isles."

Both of their parents were thrilled to learn about these after-school developments. Constance was enormously proud of Maura for wrangling an invitation somewhere after only her first day, although Desmond pointed out (later, and in private) that it probably helped to have Maura going to school with boys. Meanwhile, Tommy had to all but bribe his mother not to be there when Maura came over. He'd been interested in one girl before who Angela hadn't entirely approved of, so she was tickled that another one—one who knew how to play chess, no less—was coming around. She had tried eagerly to engage Jane in a conversation about it, but Jane just shut herself in the bathroom, saying she had to get ready to meet Joey Grant for a date.

"OH, how wonderful!" Angela cried. "This is fantastic!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jane mumbled from the other side of the door.

She had to move quickly after her shower, changing into jeans and reasonable shoes that could be worn astride Joey's new bike. That was really the only reason she was remotely interested in spending time with him again, but she was sure Angela would never approve of such an excursion. So she dressed, waited for Frankie's signal, and then dashed out of the house before Angela could catch sight of her.

"Jane go already?" Angela asked a minute later.

"Yep," Frankie answered. "She was real excited."

"Well, Frankie, how'd you like to take your mother on a date while Tommy's got his girl here? I'm going to the department store!" she trilled as if this would be an invitation she thought Frankie couldn't possibly pass up. He looked suitably un-impressed, however, and she added, "Plus I thought I might go for an egg cream…"

"Aw, okay," he finally agreed.

When he got back to the room he shared with his brother, it was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the amount of gel Tommy was combing into his hair. He had kept his school clothes on, a pair of jeans with a red plaid shirt, although it was now un-tucked. Frankie could not contain a laugh when Tommy winked at himself in the mirror, prompting Tommy to chuck a nearby case of shoe polish at his brother.

* * *

"Checkmate!" Maura laughed, shoving Tommy's king off the board with one victorious swipe as he groaned good-naturedly and sank back in his wicker chair. "Shall we go for a tiebreaker, and make it best two out of three?"

"Anything to avoid that history assignment!" Tommy said. "I'm gonna need a refresher for a third game, though. You want a Coke?"

"Sure, Tommy, thanks!"

Encouraged by the jovial attitude she had employed all evening, as well as by her willingness to forgo studies in favor of chess, Tommy grinned at her. Once inside the house, he tore around the pantry, trying to find something sweet he could bring back outside to the front porch in addition to the soda. Maura remained on the porch, putting the chess pieces back in place.

Her attention was diverted almost immediately, however, when a motorcycle came roaring down the street. Frowning disapprovingly at the sound pollution, she watched as the bike—carrying a boy and a girl, both in leather jackets—pulled up to the Rizzoli's house. The boy, who was driving, didn't cut the engine, but leaned over for a kiss as the girl dismounted. She granted him a quick one before glancing over at her house and seeing this very proper, very lovely girl sitting on the porch. Before the boy could drive off, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and brought him in for a significantly longer kiss, much more showy than the last one. When she broke it off, he revved the engine before driving away.

She strutted up the walk, and in spite of the cool fall air, Maura felt herself getting warm. This had to be Tommy's older sister, the one he'd mentioned in passing. Jane… Jane Rizzoli.

It wasn't until she reached the porch that Maura realized they had met before: that very morning, in fact. In her defense, Jane looked quite different now than when she had in the nurse's office earlier that day. At school, she had worn appropriate clothing, namely a dress that reached her knees, a button-up sweater to cover her arms, and conservative loafers. Her hair had been pulled back, as well.

At the moment, she couldn't look more different. The most beautiful mane of hair Maura had ever seen was tumbling over Jane's shoulders, dark as her smoky eyes. On her feet were a pair of black Chucks, looking almost as worn as the denim pants she had rolled up at the bottom. Any demure qualities her blue gingham top might have held were nullified by the black leather jacket she was wearing over it.

"Hiya, square."

Oh goodness. At school, that voice had seemed almost charming. Fun. Like the sidekick of some heroine in a movie might have. Out here, in the evening, it felt wicked. Dark. Dangerous. Incredibly exciting.

Jane stepped closer, standing right in front of Maura and looking down at the chess board, half its pieces put back. All Maura could focus on was the way Jane's hands were shoved into her pockets, thumbs out and pointed at her crotch.

"Who's winning?" she asked.

"Um—I won. I won a game, and Tommy won a game. S-so we're going to play a third one and see who wins it."

"Very interesting," Jane muttered. She leaned over the table, practically hovering over Maura, who was holding her breath. "Hey." She tucked her fingers under Maura's chin and tilted her face upwards, forcing those hazel eyes to look at her. She winked. "Sorry I got kinda sidetracked from showing you your classroom today. And thanks for helping to fix my nose, too. I didn't thank you for that earlier."

"Oh, it's…" Maura inhaled deeply. "It was nothing. What happened, anyway?"

She jumped when Jane's other hand struck a match on the table by Maura's arm. Jane straightened up, lighting a cigarette she'd pulled from her pocket. "Got into a scrape."

Jane was ready to fabricate a thrilling tale, and would've told a real whopper if Tommy hadn't come back through the front door just then, carrying two Cokes and a box of Twinkies under his arm. He scowled at Jane. "You know Ma's gonna flip her lid if she catches you smoking again!"

"Off to the alley then, I guess," Jane said with a shrug.

"You gonna meet Frost?"

"Mind your beeswax, kid," Jane said over her shoulder, hurrying down the front steps. She turned to walk down the alley behind their house, but looked back one more time to see if Maura was still watching her. She was. And before she had time to look away, Jane winked again and blew her a kiss.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I realized while writing this chapter that it could be fun having Jane have to explain all her ('50s) slang to Maura, an opportunity I couldn't really divulge in with the noir because it wouldn't quite have meshed with the atmosphere, haha. Also I'm sort of taking a leaf out of Tamaro's book: each chapter title is going to be named after a '50s song, because I'm an old soul and love that music.  
Also with the start of this, I guess I'm playing with the fact that Jane can kind of be a bully to Maura sometimes on the show- or rude, at the very least. We generally tend to avoid that in fanfics because we all love mushy, sweet Jane (especially me). And of course mushy sweet Jane is going to rear her adorable head in this story at some point, but not right away. She has to learn a little bit more about Maura first.


	3. Book of Love

**A/N**: So I realized I never pointed out how the ages work in this story, so here we go- Jane's a senior, Frankie is a junior, and Tommy and Maura are both sophomores in high school. This chapter wound up going longer and farther than I'd originally intended...

* * *

"_Aw geez, Ange, what's the problem? So she wants to learn to grapple with the boys! Is it so bad she learns to protect herself?"_

"_Protect herself from what, Frank?! You think we're sending her to a war zone every day? This is a safe town! I don't want my daughter acting like one of the boys—you let her get away with too much! I stayed quiet when she was a kid, but she's growing up now! And if you ask me, she's already headed for trouble."_

"_Angela, she's still a kid!"_

"_Frank. In five years she'll be as old as I was when we got married. Do you realize that? She's a young lady now, and if I don't show her how to be one, how'll she ever learn? You can't keep on placating her like this! She has to grow up and be ready to live in the real world!"_

"_Ange, please. I'm just as concerned about Jane's well-being as you are. She's a smart girl, she knows what she has to be and has to do, and she'll get there when she has to! I don't see why there's such a rush to—"_

"_Frank, please try and see this from my point of view? Please. What if I went around teaching Frankie how to sew, or putting Tommy in dresses? What if I bought them dolls and said it was all right not to know how to throw a ball? Hm? How would you feel if they wanted ribbons on their bikes—or in their hair?!" Silence. "Would you laugh it off, call it a phase, something they were going through? No, I know what you'd do, Frank Rizzoli, you'd paddle those boys just for asking!"_

_Frank's voice was quieter, a little more serious now. "Guess I hadn't thought of it like that."_

"_Apparently! Frank, I just want my daughter to be—well, my __daughter__! You've already got two sons; please, let me have my girl."_

The summer Jane had overheard that conversation was the summer everything really started changing. She had been fourteen years old. Though her father often still indulged her boyish ways, he didn't do it as openly or frequently as he had in the past. Now she commonly had to dodge both parents, not just Angela, when she wanted to join in a pick-up game or some such thing. Jane did not see how she and her mother would ever be close, because she could not for the life of her envision being the type of woman Angela wanted her to be.

Sit up straight! Get your hands out of your pockets! Don't slouch! Don't use slang! Where are your stockings? Pull your hair back! Did you bring a comb? Let me lend you some mascara. Come join the bridge game, it's much more fun than watching the game. Sit down! Don't shout! Don't run! I saw the prettiest dress in the window yesterday; it would look _perfect _on you.

Jane had never really considered herself particularly rebellious, but she supposed maybe that was the best word to describe her behavior a lot of the time. For instance, her mother would no doubt be horrified to know that at this moment, her daughter was exchanging blows with a black boy in one of their neighborhood's back alleys.

"C'mon, Rizzoli, that all you got?"

"If you'd keep still a second, Frost—"

"Keep still? Don't be a sissy!"

Jane fired a fist at Frost's palm, and his taunting smile slid off his face as he recoiled. "Yow! Nice shot."

"See?" Jane said gleefully. "I've got this!"

Frost's father was a marine, and he'd been the middleweight champion in his unit. He'd been proud to teach his only son the fine art of boxing—a skill the boy had used the previous spring to fight off a mugger whose intended target had been a teenage girl.

"_You okay, miss?"_

"_I coulda taken him!" _

_Figures she'd be ungrateful. "Well, well. My apologies. Kinda looked like he was about to make off with your purse."_

"_Purse," she muttered, swinging the thing back on her shoulder. "If I could just carry a wallet instead, wise guys like that wouldn't be able to come along and… well, anyhow. I guess I oughtta thank you...?"_

_He stuck out his hand. "Barry Frost."_

"_Frost. I'm Rizzoli, Jane Rizzoli." _

_He smiled, and she smiled back. "Well, Jane Rizzoli, if you ever wanna learn how to __really__ fight, you just let me know. You've got a little spitfire in you."_

_He'd already turned to walk away, but Jane caught up, asking out the side of her mouth, "How serious is that offer?"_

"Ready for me to fight back?"

"Just try and lay a hand on me!"

With a smirk, Frost went over to his bike and picked up the extra pair of gloves he'd tied to its handlebars. Jane remained in her defensive stance, watching him as he pulled on the first glove, using his teeth to help with the second one. He was sure that if his father was ever home, he wouldn't be too pleased to know his son was using his gloves to teach a girl to box, but Frost figured what the old man didn't know wouldn't hurt him. His mother, meanwhile, didn't ask too many questions. When she _did _ask what he got up to on weekday nights, he'd just say he was going out with the boys, which was not necessarily a lie. Often after his bouts with Jane, he'd meet up with his own crew (never mind that he was spending more and more time with her); and besides, being around Jane felt like being around one of the guys, anyway.

"Okay," Frost said, holding up his gloved hands. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure, I'll lead," Jane grunted, swinging forward.

He took it easy on her, and she knew it, but she couldn't begrudge him that at this point. Still, she had improved amazingly fast, really cottoning on to the concept of fighting much faster than Frost had ever figured she would. In fact he'd figured she would give up or go home crying after their first surreptitious meeting, but that proved to be far from the case (and, on underestimating her determination, he had actually gone home with a split lip that night).

They stopped for a water break, provided by the canteen Frost's father had kept on him through the war. After Jane guzzled some down, she passed it to Frost and asked, "Heard from your old man lately?"

"Oh yeah, last week. He's still in Japan. Um…Tokyo, I think?"

"Coming home soon?"

Frost shrugged. He and Jane had already debated the merits of each other's parents; Frost envied the attentiveness of Jane's, and she envied him for being left to his own devices most of the time. Given the option of traveling abroad with her husband, Frost's mother had dryly stated that she'd if she was going to feel like an outcast, she'd at least like to be in a country where she could understand the language. Frost had stayed with her out of solidarity.

"You still seeing that guy?"

"What guy."

"Y'know, uh…Joey?"

"He spent the whole summer with his folks in _London_," Jane said. "And I didn't miss him for a second. But then he came back for school, and he picked it all up like he hadn't ever left." She sighed and took the canteen back from Frost, grinning. "He's got a Panther model, shipped here from England. A motorcycle."

"No!" Frost gasped.

"Yeah."

"And your parents don't mind you riding it?"

"They don't know he has one," Jane snorted. "And I sure ain't gonna tell 'em, not if I can avoid it!"

"You ridden it yet?"

"Yeah, today. I felt like hell on wheels, man. Free. I gotta get a job—make some money, save up, buy my own. Then I wouldn't have to act all lovey-dovey around that jerk."

"Job, huh? Yeah, I could see you makin' a real cute waitress." Frost laughed when Jane gave his shoulder a playful shove. "You could go around on those roller skates, selling popcorn at the drive-in! C'mon, it's a great idea!"

"Frost, I told ya, you ain't ever gonna see me in a dress, so stop trying."

"What, do I have to come track you down at school? Or corner you at church?"

"I like you, Frost," Jane said quietly, suddenly serious. "I mean, I like that you and me can just …_be_, y'know? I mean I know we just sort of try to beat each other up when we're together, but I'm not angry. Not at you. Matter of fact, everyone in my family always says how downright pleasant I seem after I come home from a bout with you," she laughed. "Of course, they don't know what it is I've been going, but still. It helps. You help."

She didn't often get mawkish like this, and Frost found himself feeling a little uncomfortable. So rather than return the sentiment, he said, "Didn't one of your brothers follow us once?"

"Yeah, but he missed his window of opportunity to rat me out."

"What do you mean?"

"Tommy's the baby of the family, see? So whenever it comes down to his word against mine, Ma always takes his side. No matter what. When he followed me that one time and saw you and me, I think he wanted to try and make me suffer a bit, trying to guess when he'd spill the beans to Ma. But see, _I've _got the upper hand now, if he ever tries squealing on me."

"Why, what'd you see him do?"

"I caught him peeping."

"You _caught _him?"

"Sure as you're born, I caught him! Little weasel climbed up a tree with some binoculars. I might not have found him if his drool hadn't landed on my head."

"Aw, no!" Frost laughed, his face expressing both jubilance and disgust. "Who was the girl? Anyone you knew?"

"Nah, she's new in town," Jane muttered, casually crossing her legs. "Actually, she's at our house right now, playing a game of chess with that peeper."

"You mean you didn't tell her?"

"Uh—no…should I have?"

Frost shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno, maybe? I mean, if she's at your house, with Tommy. They aren't alone, are they?" When Jane didn't say anything, Frost pressed her, "_Are _they?"

"So what if they are? Tommy's just a little flirt. He won't try anything serious."

Whether she believed this or not, Jane prepared to head back home less than a minute later.

Meanwhile, Maura and Tommy had just finished their third chess game. The provisions had been that if Tommy won, they could play another game, but if Maura did, they would get a start on their history assignment. They headed inside to work, as the outdoors provided far too tempting a distraction; although Tommy noticed pretty quickly that Maura was having a hard time concentrating on their homework. This was surprising mostly in that she seemed like the type of person who loved academia, and would want to focus on work.

As it was, even in a room filled with various athletic trophies Tommy had won, Maura felt compelled to ask, "Who's Frost?"

"Hm?" Tommy asked, checking back over his book to see if that was a historical figure he had missed.

"Frost. You asked your sister if she was meeting him. Is that her boyfriend?"

"No," Tommy scoffed. "Just some guy she hangs around with sometimes."

"Oh." Pause. "Do you know what happened to her nose?"

"Nah. She don't tell me much."

"Doesn't."

"What?"

Maura blushed a little, wishing it wasn't her second nature to correct grammar. "It ought to be 'she _does not _tell me much.'"

To her relief, Tommy smiled instead of laughing at her. "Gee, you must be pretty smart, huh? We don't talk too good around here!"

Maura bit her lip to keep from saying _well. _

A quarter of an hour passed before the front door banged open. Tommy turned around to see who it was, ready to scowl for his mother or one of his siblings, ready to impress his father with the prettiness of the girl sitting across from him. To his annoyance, Jane came tromping through the door, looking and smelling rather awful.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Tommy said, as Jane stretched casually. "I thought Ma said you weren't to dress like that anymore."

"Hey Maura, you know where Tommy likes to spend his nights?" Jane asked pointedly.

"Shut up, shut up!" Tommy said hurriedly, sparing an embarrassed glance for the curious-looking Maura. "We're trying to focus on an assignment here! Go away."

"Assignment, hm?" Jane asked, coming closer and leaning over Tommy's shoulder. "Ah, early American history. Having fun, kids? Paul Revere's ride, and all that?"

Again, Maura's lack of filter made her talk: "Did you know that Paul Revere's importance in American history has been greatly overstated due to the popularity of the poem by Longfellow? He was far from the only rider that night warning of the approaching Britons, and some would argue his significance at all. Longfellow chose him to write about only because 'Revere' rhymed with 'listen my children, and you shall hear.' Quite fascinating to see how art has affected history, isn't it?"

The Rizzoli siblings stared blankly at her. Once sure she was finished, Jane straightened up and drawled, "Good job teaming up with an egghead, Tommy. Maybe you'll pass this year."

"An egghead?" Maura asked blankly.

"Yeah. It means you're a brain."

"I…_have _a brain," Maura said slowly. "But so do all living creatures, with varying degrees of development, particularly among homo sapiens."

"Homo what?" Jane and Tommy asked in unison.

"Humans," Maura replied faintly, feeling a faint blush start to crawl up her neck. Tommy at least looked impressed, but Jane seemed about five seconds away from cracking another joke at Maura's expense.

Indeed: "Well! Look at you, Miss I-stopped-traffic-with-my-smart-speak-and-Maidenform-bra."

"Hey Maura," Tommy said. "What's smart-speak for 'wishes she was a boy'?"

Jane shoved Tommy's head down hard before turning and running up the stairs. Maura didn't bring Jane up in the conversation again, but stuck to the assignment as hand (as much as she could, when Tommy kept trying to change the subject to something he might find more interesting). He was grateful to remember that it was a Tuesday, when Frank worked an extra shift, guaranteed to come home later than usual. With Jane brooding upstairs and his mother's promise to stay out later, he had plenty of time to spend alone with Maura.

He asked her what it was like to live in Europe, and she provided basic answers to his basic questions. She quickly got the impression that he was more interested in looking at her than really listening to her, as he was prone to trail off and/or ask her to repeat simple things she had just said. She was not unattractive and this she knew, and as flattering as Tommy's attention was, she had preferred playing chess with him to talking to him. At least in chess, he seemed able to respect more than the features she had simply inherited from her parents, nothing she had cultivated herself.

When their assignment was finally completed, Maura asked where she might find a bathroom. Though a little surprised by her frankness, Tommy directed her to go upstairs and turn left, where she would find what she needed at the end of the hallway. On her way there, she walked past the master bedroom, where she stopped automatically at the sight in front of her.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jane was visible, mostly in profile. She still had on her dirty jeans, but instead of the gingham top, she was wearing what had to be one of her father's button-down shirts. It was white and stiff and too loose on her in most places, which Maura guessed Jane could tell as she twisted and turned in front of a full-length mirror. A soft sigh escaped her as she looked at her reflection once more before reaching for a tie. Maura briefly watched Jane struggle with it, and after deciding her advice on how to properly put on a tie would _not _be welcome here, hurried on to the bathroom.

Jane jumped when she heard the soft _click _of the bathroom door closing down the hall, and she yanked the tie off so fast it whipped her cheek. She figured it had to have been Maura, because she could hear any Rizzoli coming up the stairs a mile off. With trembling fingers, she hurried to undo the endless row of buttons on her father's dress shirt, carefully hanging it back up once she was done. Pulling her own top back on, she was able to dash over to her room and shut the door before Maura came back out.

For a couple of years now she had wanted a good dress shirt of her own. She'd even seen them on some women, but didn't much care for the feminine cut. One night she had curiously put on one of her father's, when nobody else was around. She'd liked the way it hung on her, the way it made her look bigger and more powerful. It wasn't in a demure color, it didn't have delicately tapered cuffs, it didn't have a ridiculous Peter Pan collar. It was serious. Businesslike. Masculine.

Jane rolled over on her bed, lying on her stomach and groaning softly.

_Ma probably wishes she had a daughter like Maura. Someone delicate and beautiful and smart. Someone gorgeous and polite, who looks as comfortable in a dress as though it were a second skin. Hell, even if she knows a thing or two about boxing, I'm sure she's never tried it. _

Her own homework lay ignored on the floor as she groaned again into her pillow, remembering her motorcycle ride with Joey. She had forced herself to ignore several facets of the short trip, starting with his off-key singing of "Get Your Kicks on Route 66," and most especially trying not to focus on that fact that she had her arms clasped around him for safety. Instead she closed her eyes and concentrated on the wind blowing freely against her face—but most especially, the feel of the seat vibrating slightly beneath her. It was more intense when they were at a stop, and when he felt Jane shifting along the seat behind him, Joey figured she was simply adjusting her position. She thanked God that he couldn't see into her mind, where she had Maura-pulling-on-her-underwear on constant replay.

Presently, Jane got up on her elbows to look out her window when she heard a car pull up outside their house. It definitely sounded louder than their family car, or the company van that typically dropped off Frank. Jane's eyes widened when she saw the newest model of the Bentley—she'd never seen such a gorgeous automobile. She half expected a movie star or the President to get out, but it was just what appeared to be an excessively well-dressed businessman, a jaunty skip in his step as he headed up the porch and out of Jane's sight.

Tommy had planned on walking or biking Maura home, not realizing she and her parents had gotten the Rizzoli's address from the principal after school, and had arranged a time for Mr. Isles to come pick her up.

"Hello there, young man!" he said pleasantly enough when Tommy opened the door. "I believe you have my daughter squirreled away here somewhere."

Maura showed up just then with her bag and her books. "Hello, father! This is Tommy."

Tommy tried to flatten his hair with one hand as he used the other to shake Mr. Isles'. "Hello, sir."

"And hello, Tommy! Good to meet you. It really was quite capital of you to invite the school's newest student over on her first day. Excellent showcase of American hospitality! Did you two get much studying done?"

"We finished our assignment, yes," Maura answered as she slipped into the shoes she'd left by the door. "And we had time for recreation, as well. Tommy's quite a gifted chess player."

"Is that so? Gave the girl a run for her money, eh?" Mr. Isles asked, elbowing Tommy congenially. Unused to seeing her father in such an affable manner, Maura had to smile. "All right, sweet pea, we'd better get going. I want to take care of the lawn before the sun goes down."

"Haven't we got a landscaper _yet_?" Maura asked in surprise.

"I'm afraid not," Desmond sighed. "Your mother has so far gotten impeccable help in cooking and cleaning, but I'm unable to hold onto a good yard worker for whatever reason."

"How much you payin'?" Tommy asked, somewhat tactlessly. "I know growing season's almost over, but I could come and cut your grass for ya, if you want. Not tonight, but I could start tomorrow after school."

Desmond couldn't help smiling a bit, recognizing a young boy's desperation to spend time around (and do good by) a pretty girl. "Well I say, I like your enthusiasm! And I admire boys who take initiative. You come on over to our house after school tomorrow, and I'm sure my wife would be happy to discuss some sort of arrangement with you."

Tommy did just that, and missed Constance's amusement at his eagerness to be around Maura. For three weeks, he accompanied Maura home on Wednesdays, bringing with him a spare set of clothes to work in. When he was finished, he would put the cutter back in the shed and walk into the kitchen for a glass of lemonade fresh from a pitcher Maura had brewed herself. Constance, in her studio and not wishing to be disturbed, would leave a ten dollar bill on a table by the front door. After Tommy had lingered as long as he felt was customary, he would stop by Sumner Fairfield to boast about his time spent with Maura (often greatly exaggerated) before going home. He kept the amount of money he was making to himself.

Week four brought along a bit of a mix-up.

Desmond had figured the weather was getting so that they wouldn't need the lawn cut for much longer, and Maura had misheard it as a communication that Tommy's services were no longer required. Constance remarked that she intended to call the Rizzoli's, not explaining that she wanted to make sure Tommy's parents knew what a stand-up young man he was—Maura assumed the call's purpose was to thank Tommy but let him know they wouldn't need the lawn cut anymore. She did vaguely think this was strange as a few days went by and the grass looked unruly high again, and it wasn't until after she'd left for school on Wednesday that Constance left the customary ten dollar bill by the door.

That morning, Jane stopped outside her brothers' room to eavesdrop as Tommy hassled his brother, just barely awake:

"Please, Frankie, _please!_"

"Why? What're you doing?"

"Sumner's brother just bought a car, and he said he'd take us for a test ride! Y'know, wants to make sure it's safe before he takes any girls around, so it's just us boys. We're gonna go and take a day off!"

"Can't it wait till Saturday? Why you gotta cut school?"

"What's the fun in that? Look, all you gotta do is keep your mouth shut to Ma and then do the Isles' lawn after school. They have a cutter that works great, real easy."

"Too much work."

"You get paid, and when you go in after you're done, Maura'll have a glass of the best lemonade you ever tasted!"

"Ooh, lemonade? Quick, tell me where to sign up."

"I'll throw in two bucks of my own, Frankie, please! _Please?_"

"Fine," Frankie groaned. "But don't you forget my extra two bucks."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

A moment later, Tommy came running out of his room, nearly knocking over Jane. Twin cries of "watch it!" went off before Tommy raced into the bathroom, and Jane stepped into her brothers' room. Frankie was caught in a stretch and a yawn, half-dressed in front of the mirror. Pulling a plaid top over his undershirt, he gave Jane a tired salutation.

"Hey, I heard Tommy tryin' to bribe you to do the Isles' lawn."

"Yeah, can you believe that kid? And have you _seen _that lawn? It's huge! It'll take me all afternoon."

"And gee, doesn't that new Cary Grant picture open today? Weren't you gonna take Riley to the matinee?"

Frankie froze and swiveled around to face her. "Aw, no! _Hell _no am I gonna go do Tommy's job for him instead of taking out a girl—"

"Wait, wait," Jane said, blocking the door as Frankie prepared to tell his brother exactly this. "Look, uh, I'll talk to Joey. He'll do the Isles' lawn, Tommy has his cut day, you get to take Riley to the movies. Square?"

"What makes you think Joey'll wanna do it?" Frankie asked suspiciously.

Jane smiled in her best womanly, worldly way. "Trust me. I've got Joey Grant in a position to do anything I say."

Frankie made a face and a noise of disgust, and Jane just laughed and left the room.

Of course she had no intention of asking Joey to do the Isles' lawn. She'd do it herself.

Jane hadn't interacted much with Maura since the first week of school, simply because their paths didn't seem to cross much. According to Tommy, she spent most of her free time in the local library, where he would often meet her for help on his assignments. Joey didn't really seem to notice that the only times Jane would move in to kiss him (as opposed to passively letting him kiss her) were when she spotted Maura Isles nearby. There was just something Jane liked about unsettling this composed, well-bred girl—if only because she wanted to feel like she wasn't the only one in their school forced to ask herself uncomfortable questions about who she might be interested in.

All Maura was unsure of was what exactly Jane's feelings were towards her. Most of the students here were more agreeable than the ones she'd been with at the International School in France, but there were still certainly the ones who teased her. Outright mocking she could (unfortunately) understand, just as she could easily comprehend kindness.

With Jane, she was never sure. Was the wink intended to express solidarity, a confidant, or… possibly, lechery? Her tone didn't hold quite the same condescension as their classmates when she called Maura square, or brains, or doll. And yet there were also times when Maura could swear she saw Jane looking at her in the hallways with utter dislike, or other times when she couldn't quite keep a sneer out of her voice.

Part of it, she correctly guessed, was a class issue. Jane found it difficult going to a school where a good chunk of students came from significantly wealthy families, most of whom didn't bother to try hiding their wealth. While Jane and her siblings walked to school, Maura was chauffeured; Jane had three outfits to switch out during the week, and she didn't think she had seen Maura wear any given item more than once; and there was just that genteel, educated way of speaking that she had which instantly distanced Jane and made her feel all the more like the moron she used to be teased to be.

Today, Jane was determined to learn a little bit more.

She had planned on mowing in an extra pair of the overalls her father wore to go plumbing, and frowned upon seeing that it was in the dirty clothes hamper. Plan two was a pair of his old jeans that he wore whenever he had to paint around the house. Even though her father was pretty lean, she still needed to borrow a belt to keep the jeans up, and the hems nearly hid her Chucks. Keeping on her undershirt, she grabbed an old sweater to put on, pulled her hair back and piled it under a baseball cap. Then, sneaking past her mother's knitting buddies in the living room, she ran for the garage, grabbed Frankie's bike, and headed for Maura's neighborhood.

Working with Frost for so many months has helped develop her strength more than she'd realized: all she knew was how long Tommy said it took for him to get through the lawn, and she was shedding through that time with ease. Pretty quickly though she wished she'd chosen something lighter to wear, because easy though the work may have been, she was building up quite a sweat. More than once she paused to wipe her brow and roll up her sleeves, wishing she had a canteen or something for her thirst.

Once the job was done, she wheeled the cutter back to the Isles' shed, privately glad that nobody had stopped and noticed her. Part of her had hoped Maura would look out and see her (more than once, she'd checked the windows of the large house), but she figured she at least might see Maura once she got inside.

She wound up getting more than she bargained for, as she walked into the Isles' kitchen and saw, for the second time, Maura wearing nothing but a towel.

For a moment neither of them moved or said a thing, acutely aware of the fact that they had seen each other at the exact same moment. Jane's face was already red with the exertion of working, and she was deeply grateful for that; Maura, however, had no excuse handy to hide her blush. What was odd to her was that she'd been in a state of undress like this before in front of other girls, her classmates, but there was something extremely different about being this way in front of Jane.

None of her schoolmates ever looked at her like this. None of them had ever _looked _like this, period.

"Uh, hi," Jane finally said, after a silence that might have lasted longer than the second world war.

"H-hello," Maura stammered. "Um…"

"If this is how you come down every Wednesday, it's no wonder my brother likes working here so much," Jane chuckled.

"Oh, gosh—no, I don't—I didn't think Tommy was coming around anymore," Maura hastened to explain, her blush deepening. "I heard my father say he thought the lawn wasn't going to grow much more, and I—I suppose I leapt to the conclusion that Tommy wouldn't be coming back. And besides, my mother always leaves money on the table before I've left for school, and it wasn't there this morning, and …I thought I was alone in the house. I came down for some water."

"So is it customary in Europe to waltz around your own house naked when you think nobody else is home?" Jane asked.

"First of all, I am not naked," Maura argued.

Jane took a step closer, and Maura nearly jumped into the fridge. "You are under that towel though, aren't you? Or does the pretty princess wear panties to the shower?"

"Of all the—! Leave my house at once, Jane Rizzoli!"

"Oh, don't get dramatic. Besides, did _you _buy this house?"

"No…"

"Well then, it isn't really _yours_, is it?"

"What are you still doing here?"

"I was told that if I cut your lawn, there'd be some lemonade waiting for me. Now," she teased, "If I were a boy, the sight of you in that towel might be payment enough, but as it is…"

Maura sighed heavily, holding her towel as tightly as possible. "You are _insufferable_," she said under her breath. When Jane raised her eyebrows, Maura lifted her chin and spoke up: "I'm going to go put on a robe, and then I will get you some lemonade and you may leave. Please refrain from dirtying up the kitchen in my absence."

"Aren't you going to tell me to make myself comfortable?" Jane asked with faux coquettishness, lowering her voice and batting her eyelashes.

"Oh, yes," Maura said, with an almost endearing attempt at sarcasm. "Please do."

She didn't realize the extent to which Jane would take her seriously, and when she returned to the kitchen a minute later, it was to see Jane had taken off her sweater and draped it over one of the chairs by the counter. This left her in nothing but jeans and a sleeveless white undershirt, which Jane had un-tucked, lifting the hem to wipe the last of the sweat from her forehead. This exposed what had to be the most well-developed abdominal area Maura had ever seen on a real, living person. Her mouth fell open in shocked awe as she was suddenly wrestling back an overwhelming desire to hurry over and touch the skin stretched tight over those unbelievable muscles (which had arrived thanks to the military workout regimen Frost kept Jane on).

_Omigod, omigod. _

Jane dropped the undershirt back down and saw Maura's astonished expression (and Maura briefly worried she had spoken her thoughts out loud). At first, she misread it: "Sorry about all the sweat," she sighed. Even in a robe and wet hair, Maura looked so well put-together by comparison. "I know that's probably fairly disgusting, isn't it? Probably clashing with your Chanel number 5 too, huh?"

"Perspiration is just your body's way of regulating its temperature," Maura said, fearing the onset of the type of ramble that always came when she was nervous. "I don't believe it's anything to be ashamed of. Granted, it's culturally expected to treat sweat as though it's distasteful and disgusting, but some people actually find it quite…" Her breath hitched, almost like a hiccup. "Alluring," she finished.

Jane stared at her. She continued to stare as Maura, eyes downcast, walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher filled with a bright pink liquid. Jane asked where she might find a glass, and Maura gestured to the cabinet currently above her own head. She was about to say she'd get it herself, but before she knew it, Jane was standing directly behind her, pressing gently into her as she reached for a glass.

Rather than step away, Jane reached her other arm around Maura for the pitcher, and slowly started pouring herself a glass. Maura involuntarily held her breath the entire time, tense as a taut rope until Jane finally shifted one arm away, allowing her to turn and break out of the small space.

"So how about you?" Jane asked, her voice raspy even after she had downed some lemonade. "My… brother comes in here all doused in sweat, does it make you flip?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you find it _alluring?_"

In regards to Tommy, Maura could honestly answer, "No."

Jane surveyed her carefully for a few moments, then gulped down the rest of the lemonade. There was that teasing smirk Maura had grown to resent so much, not helped when Jane bumped her gently as she went back to the other side of the counter for her sweater.

"Thanks a mil for the hospitality, square," Jane said, pulling the sweater back over her head.

Maura's brave attempt at sarcasm came again: "You have to go so soon?"

"Got a headache," Jane said brusquely.

"I suppose that's not surprising. It's the second most common ailment among Americans."

"What's the other one, poindexter, your fun facts?" Jane snorted. This time she did actually feel a little bad at the expression on Maura's face. Not sure how to rectify it, she merely turned and muttered, "I'll see myself out." (This was easier said than done, and she took two wrong turns before finally finding the front door, pocketing the outrageous sum of money Constance had left.)

Once sure Jane was gone, Maura sped to the relatively small library in the house, picking up the _S _edition of her father's favorite encyclopedia. Under the pages-long entry for "slang," she found a definition for poindexter: "_a person who is intelligent but socially inept_."

"Gosh, that sure is me, I guess," Maura sighed, sitting down on one of the library's plush chairs. She thumbed casually through some of the other pages of slang, wondering if she might recognize some of the phrases she heard regularly at school—but the entry she stopped on was a word she had never actually heard, but suddenly realized probably applied to her as much as poindexter:

_Dyke: Origin 1940—1945; claimed to be shortening of morphodyke (variant of morphodite, a reshaping of hermaphrodite); a female homosexual._

Maura sat thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the words on the page that seemed to leap out at her. She slowly closed the book, returned it to its spot, then folded her arms and leaned against the shelf. Her mother had introduced her to several men who Maura had, as a young child, seen as merely quite feminine. When she got a bit older and began to ask questions, Constance was not embarrassed to explain that for whatever reason, these men sought the company of each other rather than women.

"Is that an option?" Maura had asked curiously.

"For them, _oui_."

What Constance failed to mention was that it was seen as a crime one could be imprisoned for. All Maura knew was that she felt curious, and she climbed a ladder to skim the tallest shelves in the library. Here were the books her parents were accustomed to keeping out of sight of wandering eyes; still, Maura figured it was more out of habit than anything else, and that they would not seriously object to her wishing to study a heady volume.

Now what was the name of that researcher she had heard them talking about once? At that party, with all of Constance's friends and some of Desmond's associates; she had snuck down from her room to drink apple juice from a champagne flute and eavesdrop on some of the conversation. What was it, who was it—

Oh, there was his name on the spine of a book: Kinsey.

* * *

**a/n**: Anyone enjoying this well enough to follow it - I'm curious to know what you think!


	4. Don't Be Cruel

"Look at her, she's fidgeting. Maura never fidgets."

"Dear, I think you're overreacting."

"It isn't like her."

"Well, she's still adjusting to life in America, Desmond! It's quite different, you know, quite a change. Give her time."

"It's been over a month."

"And she's showing progress. Let her be—don't disturb the parenting style that's suited us all so well in the past."

Maura glanced up from the kitchen table to see her parents standing in the doorframe, whispering to each other. When she was younger, she had always found it very romantic that her parents were so involved with each other, so close. But the older she got, the more she felt like she was constantly being left out of the loop. She could tell by the way they were looking at her that they'd just been talking about her, and when she caught their eye, both of them smiled warily and walked into the kitchen. Her mother went over to talk with their cook, and her father settled himself on the opposite side of the table, newspaper in hand.

He taught no morning classes on Tuesdays or Thursdays, and thus was only able to breakfast with his family on these weekdays. Maura prepared herself for his usual conversation-starter: "So! What's on your schedule for today?"

"I'm to start tutoring for Mr. Sluckey."

Desmond furrowed his brow and turned the page of his paper. "A teacher in your school? He needs you to tutor for him?"

"Well, it's this student he says has been giving him some trouble. She's in danger of failing biology, and she won't give him the time of day. Starting today, I'm going to spend my study period with her once a week instead of Nurse Adams."

"Mm. Good luck with that, Maura, and don't be afraid to quit if it doesn't turn out suitably."

Maura left for school with a metaphorical chip on her shoulder. Last night she had introduced herself to the slightly confusing and incredibly frank texts of Dr. Alfred Kinsey. Her parents had not raised her to be particularly Puritanical, and she normally didn't hesitate about asking them most things, but this was a little different. She already knew her parents were aware of homosexuality, and she herself had figured that a person had to be either one or the other: you were a regular man, or you were a effeminate male with particular taste for fashion and the theater; you were a regular woman, or you dressed in severe suits with your hair cut short as possible. Girls who looked like Maura were certainly not homosexual.

But Dr. Kinsey believed that such labels were limiting, that one's sexuality was prone to change over time. Something Maura had thought to be fairly straightforward—either you craved sex with men or sex with women—was suddenly considered much more flexible. In his own words, females (or males) "do not represent two discrete populations, heterosexual and homosexual. The world is not to be divided into seep and goats." According to Kinsey, one might even be interested in physically engaging in nothing but heterosexual sex, yet still indulge in fantasies or attraction towards the same sex.

He had concocted a scale to help people orient themselves, and which Maura found a tad overwhelming. Being aroused by Jane's sweaty, half-dressed appearance yesterday seemed to rule out that she was "exclusively heterosexual." Had she ever aroused by any men? Was she "predominantly" heterosexual, or only "incidentally" so?

More data would have to be collected before she could feel sure about reaching any sort of scientific conclusion.

When she reached Mr. Sluckey's office before lunch, he seemed quite relieved to see her. Maura figured maybe she ought not to have been surprised to see Jane Rizzoli sitting in the back row of his room, looking supremely bored until she saw Maura. When she raised a dark eyebrow in interest, Maura clutched her books to her chest and tried quickly to assess every mental and physical reaction pummeling through her.

Jane's dark hair was pulled back, save for one curly strand that fell slightly to the left of her face. She was slouched over her desk, legs spread far apart, which looked slightly awkward considering she was wearing a long dress. The olive-green color of it didn't quite suit her complexion, and the white shrug she wore over it seemed only a needless feminine accessory. She may have gotten dressed in the dark for as comfortable as she looked, while Maura might have been born with a pink ribbon in her golden hair and stockinged legs.

"Hello, Maura!" Mr. Sluckey said brightly, getting to his feet and nearly jumping towards the door. "Good luck, and have fun!"

Without another word, he was gone, and Jane just rolled her eyes. "Thought that doughy menace would never leave."

Unable to think of a suitable response, Maura took a few steps closer, but stopped at the first row of desks. Jane raised her eyebrows from the back, and Maura responded by loudly dropping her books on one of the desks. Today she was determined for Jane to bend at least once.

"I'm back here," Jane said flatly.

"Yes, and I am up here," Maura responded. "So we are at a standstill."

"What?"

"I refuse to sit in the back like a hoodlum."

"Hoodlum?" Jane laughed. "These are assigned seats, sweetheart. This is where I sit. It's where I've always sat."

"You should ask to sit closer in the front. Students who are seated in the back of the room are statistically more likely to perform poorly in class. They are more easily distracted, less likely to take good notes, and certainly less likely to participate—even given the option."

Jane spread her arms to gesture to the emptiness of the room. "There's no one else here, Maura. No distractions."

Maura shrugged and sat down at the desk she'd chosen. If Jane was just going to waste her time anyway, she might as well spend the study period doing a little reading herself. Biology had long been her favorite subject to study, and no matter how inane a textbook was, she still found herself fascinated by different writers' and illustrators' takes on various topics. What intrigued her the most was the recent discovery of the double-helix deoxyribose nucleic acid. Science was so incredible.

Which was why she couldn't believe it when people like Jane would show up and say, "How can be so interested in such boring stuff?"

"I don't think anything is boring," Maura replied, looking up. She couldn't help smiling a little at her own mini-victory as Jane resolutely plopped herself into the next chair over. "There's no such thing as dullness, only ignorance."

"Come on," Jane scoffed. "Can you honestly say you enjoy _everything_ in the entire world?"

"Well, I see a whole spectrum between enjoyment and boredom. Just because I don't excel in one area doesn't mean I find myself bored by it."

"One area, hm? Let me guess—you're not really the athletic type."

"I study ballet."

"That is not a sport," Jane said with a laugh. "Not even close, sister!"

Maura pursed her lips, deciding it wouldn't be prudent to argue. "Open your book, Jane."

"C'mon, let's just blow this popsicle stand."

Words never ceased to confuse. "What?"

Jane nodded towards the window. "Let's just get outta here! We could grab a malt or something, and be back before Lucky Sluckey even knows we left." Grinning at the abashed expression on Maura's face, Jane asked, "Bet you've never cut school, have you?"

"Of course not," Maura said, looking affronted at the very thought. She pulled Jane's book towards her, opening it to the proper page. "Now—"

"Ever had a glass of beer before?" The response was another predictably scandalized look. "Bet you never had a glass of beer." Under the desk, Jane knocked Maura's knee with her own. "Wanna get one with me?"

"Absolutely not, and I will give you two reasons," Maura replied. "First of all, beer is cheap and holds far less nutritional value than something such as wine, which I have developed an amiable palette towards on occasion. Secondly, I have no desire to spend more time with you than is strictly necessary, Jane Rizzoli."

Feigning hurt, Jane said, "Why not? Everybody loves me! Well, except most of the teachers here. And the principal. And the nurse. And a lot of my classmates. And my baby brother, a lot of the time. Oh, and my mother."

"What makes you think your mother doesn't love you?" Maura asked.

Jane at a little straighter in her chair, pulling her chin out of her hand. "Huh."

"What?"

"That was an interesting response. Most people would say, 'oh I'm sure she loves you.'"

"How could I honestly say that when I _can't_ be sure?" Maura asked. "Having never met your mother and certainly having never witnessed her behavior when she's around you, it would be near impossible for me to reach any sort of conclusion about your relationship. I couldn't even come up with a hypothesis as I have laid no groundwork for conjecture. Although given your general attitude, I suppose I could understand a parent having difficulty with you."

The last sentence somehow came off as merely observational, not a jab, but Jane treated it just the same. "I guess a goody two-shoes like you is a parent's dream."

"We get on all right, I suppose," Maura said. "Usually they aren't around long enough for me to really tell."

"Leave you alone a lot, huh?"

Maura shrugged and said quietly, "Yes."

Jane just snorted and leaned back again. "Poor little rich girl," she said sarcastically.

She caught Maura's eye, and suddenly felt overwhelmed with remorse. She was accustomed to disapproval and sharp remarks, having always been on the wrong side of her teachers and rarely able to please her mother. She dished it out because she could take it. Jane called things like she saw them; or as Maura might say, she went off conjecture. There was a somberness present in those bright hazel eyes, a silent plea for Jane to understand—_you really don't know me. Please don't act like you do_. The sorrow in her features was subtle, but Jane was learning how to pick up on small details; Maura wasn't quite frowning, but the corners of her mouth curved downwards slightly.

Jane was the first to look away. Maura was then treated to a phrase that rarely came from Jane's mouth with any level of sincerity: "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Maura said. "If you'd like to make it up to me, you could try to let me teach you. That's why we're both here."

Sighing as heavily as if this was the worst possible thing Maura could ever have asked her to do, Jane finally obliged. Opening the book to the proper chapter, she said, "You really dig this stuff, huh? Science. Sluckey told me he had a student to tutor me who was a real whiz kid."

"I've always found it very intriguing, yes," Maura said in a dignified manner. "I really don't see why other people don't think so."

"You wanna be a nurse, or a chemist or something when you grow up?"

"I haven't really decided, although medicine in particular _is _fascinating to me."

"Just don't get all Dr. Frankenstein on us," Jane chuckled. (She had been referring to the many film adaptations of the book Maura assumed she was actually referencing.)

"I have no intent to attempt the reanimation of dead tissue," Maura said, "but did you know that recent advances in medicine have been made to make it possible for a deceased person to donate an organ to a living person who needs it? A surgeon in the Ukraine first tried it in the 1930s—a Dr. Voronoy, if I recall correctly—but the process hasn't been entirely perfected yet. According to Dr. Medawar from the National Institute for Medical Research, azathioprine has been identified as a usable immunosuppressive drug, which means that deceased-donor transplants will be possible among more of the population besides identical twins."

As usual, Maura didn't realize she had been rambling until she caught sight of Jane's slack-jawed expression. She blushed a little and hunched over her desk.

"Wow," Jane said slowly. "I think _you _should be teaching this class, not Sluckey."

"I'm not a teacher," Maura said.

"No, but you're smarter than he is."

"I doubt that."

"I wouldn't be so sure, square." Maura looked over again, and after a few moments of careful studying, discerned that Jane's grin was playful, not condescending. "So if I have trouble dissecting my frog—will you help me?"

Maura's smile widened. "Are you squeamish, Jane?"

"No!" Jane scoffed loudly. "What am I, a pansy?"

"A _viola tricolor_?" Maura asked confusedly.

"A wimp. I ain't squeamish, I just object to the whole practice on moral grounds. Those poor damn frogs didn't do nothin' to me."

"Jane, as your tutor, I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from swearing and using double negatives in my presence," Maura said, only semi-seriously. She couldn't keep from grinning for too long, and after a short pause, Jane reflected it. Looking down at her book, Maura said, "So, Mr. Sluckey asked me to cover Gregor Mendel with you. His work with—"

"What's going on with you and my brother?"

It was Maura's turn to sigh. "Jane, please. Can we just get through _some _of this, at least?"

"This is related! Mendel did genetics. Genetics are like traits, and inherited family stuff, right? Tommy's my family. We share certain traits. I want to know what my trait-sharing brother has been doing with you."

"We haven't been _doing _anything but spend time together," Maura answered, feeling unaccountably uncomfortable. "It's been years since I faced such a capable opponent in chess."

"Huh. I taught him everything he knows."

"Is that so. Now, Mendel's laws—"

"Wanna play some time? We could get that beer."

"I told you, Jane. I have no interest in getting beer with you."

"Okay, just the chess, then."

"You honestly want to spend time with me, Jane?" Maura asked in disbelief.

Jane bit her lip, smiling a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I honestly do."

"Then don't be cruel."

Jane's smile turned into a bit of a smirk. "To a heart that's true?"

"Hm? Oh… that's a song, isn't it?"

By way of response, Jane sat up a little straighter and crooned, "_I don't want no other love, baby it's just you I'm thinkin' of!" _She swayed her shoulders a bit, then laughed at the look on Maura's face. "Aw, don't tell me you're going to go complain about the King's grammar."

Actually, Maura had just been taken aback by the fact that Jane could carry a tune, even if only for one lyric. Her speaking voice was so low on its own and alluring in its own way—there was an added sultriness when it dipped even lower to hit a note or two. Growing up attending all-girls schools, then wandering around cities filled with handsome European boys, Maura had never been more singularly attracted to anyone than she was to Jane Rizzoli at this moment. What disturbed her the most about this right now wasn't even the fact that they were both girls, it was that Jane had been a bit of a bully. Not in a physical way and maybe not even as badly as some of her schoolmates abroad, but she definitely hadn't tried to be nice. Maura really didn't like the idea of being attracted to someone who seemed to enjoy teasing her.

And yet, what then continued was the first study session of Maura's life that involved no studying whatsoever. Jane couldn't or wouldn't concentrate, preferring instead to keep changing the subject, and Maura kept indulging her despite her initial efforts. The bell for lunch rang before Maura was aware even five minutes had passed, and she looked up at the clock in surprise. She jumped when Jane shot out of her chair like a firecracker, books hastily scooped into her arms as she raced towards the door.

"Thanks a lot, teach!" she said.

Maura was left sitting dumbly in the classroom for a few moments, trying to process what exactly had just happened. She was slowly collecting her things when Mr. Sluckey reentered the room, beaming at her.

"So! Have any luck, Miss Isles?"

"Jane's a… very enthusiastic learner," Maura eventually said, getting to her feet. _Only the subject was me, not biology_. "I can see how she might be difficult to teach, though."

"Well, I appreciate your willingness to try," Mr. Sluckey laughed. "I think this is just the kind of arrangement she needs. She asked for you specifically, you know."

"I did not know that."

"Mm-hm. I believe her brother told her about you? Thomas?"

"Oh, Tommy, yes."

"Good boy, that one. Anyway, you go on and enjoy your lunch, Maura."

The Rizzoli kids were halfway home by the time this conversation ended. They were having a heated debate themselves over a slew of baseball cards that had come into Tommy's possession during homeroom: Frankie was already trying to finagle a trade, and Jane was questioning the validity of the stats on some of them. They spilled into the house still arguing about it, and eventually reached the subject of Lou Gherig's rookie card, which their father had in his possession and was the only item any of them fought over getting when he died.

"I don't want to hear another word about baseball!" Angela said loudly, banging a ladle against a pot as the kids came into the kitchen. "Especially from you, Jane—can't you pick another hobby?"

"Whaddya mean another hobby?" Jane asked, throwing herself into her usual spot at the kitchen table. "It's America's favorite pastime!"

"It's fine for you to watch," Angela said, dishing up gnocchi for everybody, "but you shouldn't obsess over it like the boys do."

"God forbid," Jane mumbled.

Angela smacked her hand with the ladle, chastising her, "Don't use the Lord's name in vain!" Once everybody was served and milk was poured, Angela settled herself in the seat next to Tommy and said, "Now. Today's the day you were going to start getting help in biology, wasn't it, Jane?"

"Yeah," Jane said through a mouthful of gnocchi. She swallowed heavily and sat a little straighter under Angela's scrutinizing gaze. "You were right, Tommy. Maura really knows her stuff."

"Oh, Maura's helping you out?" Angela asked brightly. "Tommy, when are you gonna let me and your father meet that girl?"

"Why?" Jane snorted. "They're not going steady, Ma. They're just friends—right, Tommy?"

"Right," Tommy said glumly.

Angela ruffled his hair affectionately. "Aw, Tommy! Handsome boy like you? How could she resist?"

"Yeah, Maura thinks you're top-shelf," Jane said. "At least when it comes to chess. Coming from a brain like her, I'd say that's a pretty high compliment." Tommy perked up a little at hearing this.

Half an hour later, they trudged back to school to finish off the day, and split their separate ways after the final bell rang. Tommy took off with Sumner for the Fairfields, Frankie stayed back for football practice, and Jane raced home to change out of her godforsaken school clothes. She had a small window of time before Angela got home from her weekly salon appointment, and Jane didn't waste a second of it: the dress and shrug were thrown into the hamper, and Jane yanked on her favorite pair of jeans and a checkered black-and-white top. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she brushed back some straying strands of hair and then ran back out of the house.

Every so often she liked to drop by Gilberti's Garage for a lesson in auto-body maintenance. Angela refused to let Frank teach her, which Jane thought was incredibly stupid—what if she was driving along one day and her car broke down? Wouldn't it be better to know how to fix the problem herself if she was alone, rather than wait God knew how long for somebody to come by? So she'd struck a deal with Gilberti's son, who would show her a thing or two about auto mechanics in exchange for baked goods from her mother.

"You got the goods?" he asked when she showed up.

"Cut me a break today, Giovanni, she didn't make anything. I'll owe you next time."

The nice thing about Giovanni was that he was fairly agreeable. "Yeah, okay," he sighed. "C'mere, I'll show you what I've been workin' on lately."

Jane whistled. "A Bentley? Wait—I think I know who owns this car."

"Isles was the name," he said. "Isn't she a beauty?"

"Holy cow."

"C'mon under it, take a look." Giovanni grabbed a dolly and kicked it towards Jane. She excitedly got onto it and rolled under the car. "See the problem?" Giovanni asked. "Of course you don't. I fixed it. Of course, it was an issue under the hood, not under the car, but I figure—that's the closest you or me will ever get to a Bentley. Might as well give it a good look while we can."

"What was wrong with it?" Jane asked from under the car.

"The engine whistled," Giovanni answered.

Jane rolled back out and saw Maura Isles standing in front of them. "Don't blame it," she let slip.

"Pardon?" Maura asked.

"Nothin'," Jane said quickly, getting to her feet.

This, she supposed, was what passed for casual wear when it came to Maura. She was wearing a strikingly short white skirt, which somehow made her usually-pale skin look a little darker in comparison. Her legs seemed gorgeously elongated by the pink heeled shoes she was wearing, the same color as her pink, button-up top. It hugged her body fairly closely; in fact, her entire ensemble was a little more form-fitting than Jane would have expected such a classy girl to wear. For once, Maura's hair was pulled upwards, its elaboration off-set slightly by the pair of sunglasses she had shoved up past her forehead.

"Engine trouble, huh?" Jane asked, sauntering closer when Giovanni (much to his dismay) was called away by another customer.

"According to my driver," Maura responded. "He brought it in without my knowledge. I'm sure if I'd taken a look, I could've fixed it."

Jane snorted in disbelief. "You?"

"Me. Why is that so surprising?"

"Uh…look at you!" Jane laughed.

"That may be a fair point," Maura conceded. "Rest assured, I know my way around a car."

"Of course you do," Jane muttered.

"Do you work here?"

"No."

"What were you doing under my car, then?"

"Just takin' a look. The owners of the garage are family friends of ours. Sometimes I come down for a lesson or two, just outta curiosity, y'know."

"I see. Do you know what the problem was, then?" Maura asked, walking around to the front of the car. She popped the hood for a look at the engine, leaning over as she did so. When Jane didn't answer, Maura looked over to see the girl staring at her, rubbing her neck. "Jane?"

Jane's voice was dry: "Yeah?"

"The problem?"

Jane licked her lips. The curve of Maura's ass in that white skirt. _That. That is my problem._

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for taking the time to read! A moment more of it for feedback would really be appreciated :)


	5. Poison Ivy

When Maura seemed satisfied with the look of her car's engine, she asked Jane where she might procure the keys to the vehicle. Hearing the inquiry from the other side of the garage, Giovanni hurriedly passed his current customer over to a co-worker and all but ran back to the Bentley Jane and Maura were standing next to. Jane had assumed someone as classy as Maura would have turned up her nose at the sight of the dirtied, jumpsuit-wearing grease monkey, but the polite smile on her face couldn't have been more sincere. Maura certainly could be surprising sometimes.

And yet occasionally, her naïveté would not be denied.

"Thank you for fixing my automobile," Maura said. "Am I correct in believing Bryce paid you upfront for the job?"

"You bet he did. Hey, you check out the job yourself yet? I'd be happy to go under the hood with ya!" he said, grinning and flicking an oil-covered rag playfully in her direction.

Jane instinctively stepped in front of Maura. "Watch it, Giovanni. We already looked under the hood. Together. It's fine."

"You did an excellent job!" Maura said brightly.

"Thanks, babe!" Giovanni laughed. He tried to step around Jane, otherwise acting as though she wasn't there. "Hey, you're pretty gorgeous, y'know that? Bet a lotta fellas tell you that, huh?"

"Yeah," Jane said, veering protectively in his way again. "Yeah, they do."

"Wasn't talking about you, Jane."

"Neither was I."

"Although you _do _look pretty g—"

"Why don't you go get her keys?" Jane asked, waving vaguely in another direction. "This girl's got places to go, y'know."

As Giovanni obediently walked off to retrieve the keys, Maura said, "Why did you send him away? It's been ages since I saw a boy contract his orbicularis oculi at me like that." At Jane's horrified expression, she quickly added, "It means his eyes. And did you notice his lengthy metacarpals? Quite an attractive quality, you know."

"Yeah, sure," Jane grumbled. When Giovanni returned with the keys, Jane grabbed them from his hand, brusquely asking whether he hadn't any other customers to attend to. The garage was quite obviously busy, and Jane practically had to shove the boy away to make sure Maura got left alone. "Trust me," she muttered, turning around to hand Maura the keys. "He ain't a good match for ya."

"Oh, you don't think so, hm?" Maura asked.

Jane shrugged. "No. He's a blue-collar, Boston-Italian auto-mechanic."

It was Maura's turn to shrug. "Well so is your brother, and _we _spend a lot of time together."

"Yeah, but you don't go on about his lengthy metacarpals. …do you?"

Maura's lips curved into a smile. "Why are you interested?"

"Because he's my brother, and I know what he likes and what his faults are."

"This is all very fascinating," Maura said, walking slowly to the door of her car. She glanced back to look at Jane, and noticed those brown eyes didn't quite leave Maura's legs as quickly or smoothly as Jane probably hoped they had. "Why don't you let me drive you home, and we can continue our conversation?"

Jane hesitated, and it was mostly the prospect of being able to actually sit in a Bentley that made her feel like she had an excuse to take Maura up on her offer. "Okay," she said casually, sliding into the car. "If you're dying to take me for a ride, take me for a ride, sister."

"You've called me that twice now since I've met you," Maura said with a small frown, starting the engine. "You don't know something I don't, do you?"

"Uh…what?"

Maura pulled out of the garage and headed in the direction of the Rizzoli home. "I'm not an Isles by birth. I was adopted."

"Wow," Jane grunted. "Lucky you."

"Lucky me?" Maura asked, having spent years envious of children who knew where they really came from. "How can you say that?"

Jane shrugged. "If you get sick of the parents you have now, you can just ditch 'em for the originals."

Maura had never encountered this cynical line of reasoning before, and had no idea how to respond to it. The few people she'd happened to tell of her status as an adopted child hadn't said much about it, and Jane's attitude was jarring. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as she realized she was suddenly having to fight back tears. Why did Jane always make her so upset?

"It's not that simple," she said in a wavering voice, even if she felt Jane might have already known that on some level. "My adoption was closed."

"What's that mean?"

"I can't ever learn who my birth parents are, or were. Even when I am an adult in the eyes of the law, I won't be permitted to know. The papers are all sealed by a court order. And oh," she said a little breathlessly, hitting the brakes hard at an upcoming red light. "How grand you must think it is that I was adopted by such wealthy people! Never a care in the world, all my needs met, is that what you think?"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" Jane asked, starting to get uncomfortable. She was definitely ill at ease when Maura turned flashing eyes at her. "Light's green," she said hurriedly, and Maura stepped on the gas with more force than was necessary. "Look, you don't know what it's like to be poor."

"And you don't know what it's like to be ignored," Maura threw back.

"You don't know what it's like to be bullied by your parents," Jane grumbled, folding her arms. "Or your mother, at the very least. At least your parents _chose _you, didn't they? If my Ma had her way, I think she'd chuck me right back to God and demand an exchange—a girl who's, I dunno, more like you. Girly. And my Pop would be just as happy with a third boy."

"I gather you don't take pleasure in your femininity."

"God, no." Everything about Jane's slumped posture backed this up, from her wide-spread knees to the elbow hanging casually over the open window. "I mean, it ain't like I'm some kinda …I don't wish I was a guy, or something. I'd be okay being a girl if I could just be a girl like how I want, you know? Joey's just about the only guy I know who can respect that, for the most part. He still likes to take initiative, but he thinks it's cute I try to be more aggressive." Maura glanced over, and saw Jane's features pinch in disgust. "I love getting to go out on his bike, but I hate having to hold onto him when we ride."

"Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"

Jane shrugged. "Makes me feel weak." She sat up straight, self-conscious about the fact that her guard was down. Being herself around Maura felt a little funny; the girl had her on edge at all times. The best way to keep on top of it was to keep up her bravado like a pompadour, pushing it to an extreme if necessary. "Anyway, what are you?" she sneered. "Some kinda head doctor? Leave it alone."

"Consider it left," Maura said a little coldly.

"Hey, don't be like that. Let's go drown all our sorrows in some booze, uh?"

That defrosted Maura somewhat. Her tone was curious but also a little playful: "That's the second time you've suggested that today. Why are you so intent on getting me drunk?"

"Whoa, who said anything about drunk? I don't wanna get you drunk, just a little buzzed, maybe. I think you could be interesting if you were a little bit tipsy."

Maura took this to mean that sober, she could not be considered interesting. "Well," she said lightly. "The legal drinking age in the United States is twenty-one. You'd be breaking the law."

Jane made a disparaging noise and waved her hand. "That's the trouble with you, square. You haven't got a rebellious bone in your body. You're a goody-goody."

They had arrived at the Rizzoli's home, and Maura smoothly pulled up to the curb. She turned to look at Jane, who was wearing and odd expression, like she was pleased by pushing Maura's buttons but also a little embarrassed by her behavior.

"So what, pray tell, are you rebelling against, Jane Rizzoli?" Maura asked, trying to sound only as if she was merely humoring the girl.

Before answering, Jane gave her a long, searching look. She leaned forward a little and Maura instinctively shifted back, as if worried Jane's gaze could penetrate her in some way—her hand went up automatically to clutch the brooch on her chest and Jane smirked. Jane's voice was pitched as deep and husky as it could go when she responded, "Whaddya got?"

Maura was rendered speechless, and this told Jane very clearly that the answer was _"everything." _

Jane got out of the car, but before walking towards her house, leaned in the passenger side window. Popping her gum, she winked at Maura and said "_Ciao_, doll face." Maura watched her stride confidently up the walk, hands in her pockets, shoulders erect. Finally Maura felt her fingers unclench, relaxing on the wheel as she exhaled slowly. _Ciao, bella. _

* * *

For the first time in her parents' memory, Maura was late for dinner. At 7:42, she came barreling through the front door with five books clutched to her chest. They had nearly all spilled to the floor when she knocked right into the butler—who, after ensuring Maura was all right, bowed stiffly and shushed her apologies. Maura nodded back, then hurried down the hall to the dining room, where her parents were sitting at either end of the table. They looked up in mild surprise.

"Goodness, dear, we were about to send Edward out to look for you."

"_Pardonnez-moi, ma mère_," Maura said a little breathlessly, her cheeks flushed.

"Drinks are at 7:00, and dinner starts promptly at half past, you know that. No club sodas at the table."

"Where were you, anyway?" Desmond asked curiously.

"The library," Maura answered, still taking deep breaths. "We have a presentation due in history class at the end of the month. It's on Ancient Rome, and I thought I would get an early start on research."

"take your books upstairs and wash up," Constance said. "We'll have Yvette bring out your salad, and we will hold off on our next course until you finish."

Thanking them, Maura rushed off for her room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Desmond burst out laughing. Constance glared at him with unmistakable sourness as he practically guffawed, "And you were worried!"

"She's never been late before," Constance said tersely, peeved by her husband's attitude. "Once her daughter reaches a certain age, a mother's imagination can't help worrying itself."

"So worried you still insisted starting dinner on time?"

"Well I didn't think she was lying in a ditch some place, surrounded by wolverines," Constance said with a scowl. "I didn't want to go _completely _off the deep end the first time Maura was tardy. And besides, I don't want to set a precedent—she needs to know that the world can't revolve around her whims, and we can't accommodate her by pretending otherwise. Dinner starts when it starts, and I was decent enough to let her catch up with that salad. You know Des, I thought she might have been with a boy—that Rizzoli boy."

"Well, then, jut be grateful Maura's the type of girl who loses track of time in a library, not the backseat of a boy's convertible."

"For now," Constance said darkly. "American boys are more aggressive and more shallow than the ones Maura is accustomed to rubbing shoulders with."

"What boys has Maura ever known? Her classmates were all girls, and she preferred being on her own to getting to know kids in the neighborhood."

"She knew our friends' sons, didn't she? Remember Clive Stewart? She wouldn't go out with him because he had receding gums. So all right, perhaps American boys aren't the only ones who are shallow," she figured.

"Hey, it's not shallow. It's knowing what she wants."

"Whatever the case, Desmond: the girl's nearly sixteen. You need to accept the fact that your little girl is growing up fast, and these may be issues we all have to face in the upcoming days."

Desmond waved his hand dismissively. "Or she's not as vapid and boy-crazy as American girls," he suggested, teasingly pointing his fork at Constance.

She finally cracked a smile, unwilling as it was. "My dear, you know as well as anyone that I was born continental. Greenwich Hospital may always claim my birth, but being moved to London as soon as I was able disqualifies my being _totally _American, doesn't it?"

"Oh, you don't find us all so reprehensible, do you?" Desmond chuckled.

"You all make for a fascinating case study, I'll give you that, _ma chère_." She blew a kiss at her husband, who smiled in return. After a moment, she glanced over at Maura's empty chair, wondering what was keeping the girl. She sighed, and all signs of merriment had drained away. "I suppose we should be grateful that she still has yet to master the art of lying."

The art of lying, no. The art of dodging the truth, yes—slowly. After dropping Jane off, Maura had dutifully returned the car home and then walked five blocks to the library. She had gone to look up the American Psychiatric Association's newest Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which she had been told by the school nurse was the place to go for any information she wanted on issues that were more mental than physical. She had gotten the impression in Europe that while homosexuality definitely existed, it was a fringe society at best. Why, in a place where new things sprung up all the time and prudes were starting to be outnumbered, was it still so hidden?

She spent far longer than she'd intended perusing the manual, and felt her insides freeze as she reached the topic of "Sexual orientation disturbance," listed under the heading of "sexual deviations." Holed up in a corner desk, Maura checked obsessively to make sure nobody could see the text as she frantically read:

_This is for individuals whose sexual interests are directed primarily towards people of the same sex—a psychiatric disorder…Pathological disturbance in sexual development… Far from 'normal' or as desirable as heterosexuality... Modern methods of treatment enable a significant proportion of homosexuals to be healed… Electro-shock therapy… On its own, regularly causes subjective distress and is associated with generalized impairment in social effectiveness…_

In other words, not a great way to try fitting in with her classmates.

Tears of frustrated confusion and fear were stinging Maura's eyes when she finally checked her watch. She was startled to see that it was already past 7:15; she should've been home before seven. As she stood up to return the manual where she'd found it, she realized she'd have to explain to her parents where she'd been, and despite their liberality, she did not quite feel up to the task of being totally upfront about this yet. So, she collected a random sampling of books on Ancient Rome that could be used for a school project that was yet far off, and that would be her excuse for her parents.

When she finally joined her parents at the dinner table, her father said, "So! Maura, guess who'll be coming to visit this spring?"

"Who?"

"Your mother's favorite mother-in-law!" (Constance barely retained an eye roll.) "Yes, that's right. For the low, low price of giving up the guest room for a few weeks, you will have the pleasure of enjoying the company of the one and only Dorothea Isles will be staying!"

"That's not the only price, dear," Constance reminded him. "Maura, your birthday."

"Oh, grandmother will be here for it? How wonderful!"

"Yes, well," Constance said. "She and I have agreed on precisely one thing: we would like for you to come out in society. What do you think, Maura? Our sweet sixteen-year-old, a debutante."

"Will I have kid gloves?"

"That can be arranged, yes."

"And a white gown?"

"The whitest."

"And I'll be with all those other girls—not by myself?"

Constance smiled a little. "Of course, dear."

"Then I look forward to it!" Maura said happily, and for a moment, there were smiles all around. Then it occurred to her, "Of course, I'll need an escort."

Desmond would've nudged her with his elbow if he'd been sitting close enough. "Shouldn't be a problem for a beautiful girl like you, eh? You must be beating these American boys off with a stick!" He mimed a roguish wink at Constance, who this time could not avoid rolling her eyes.

"Mm, I'm afraid it's more of a twig, and that I haven't exactly prowess with it, but no need for it."

"Oh, nonsense," Constance said. "Why only yesterday, I ran into Mrs. Fairfield at the BFAC gallery, and she said her boy is absolutely crazy for you."

"Do you mean Sumner?"

"Is he the senior, looking to attend Harvard?"

"No, that's Garrett."

"Then it's Garrett."

"Harvard, eh?" Desmond asked excitedly. "Now there's a boy I wouldn't mind your hanging around with, Maura!"

"He's attractive, I suppose," Maura said matter-of-factly. "He always seemed a bit smug to me, though."

"Give him a chance, Maura," Constance said, her tone gentle. "After all, you don't like to be judged on appearances, do you?"

No, certainly not.

By the time the Isles finished dinner, Jane had finally gotten through the mountain of dishes her own family had dirtied up that night. She was rubbing her dishpan hands when the phone started to ring, and with her hands still occupied, she yelled for somebody else to come and get it. Both of her parents arrived, and Frank got the phone.

"Hello? …yes…oh!" His whole expression changed, and he laughed. Angela and Jane exchanged dumbfounded looks. "I've heard quite a bit about you, Miss Isles." Jane's heart started beating rapidly. "Tommy's just in the next room if you'd like to…" His smile faltered a bit, and he looked confused. "Oh. Of course." He held the phone in Jane's direction. "It's for you, honey."

Jane dropped the rag and rushed over to the phone. "Hello?" she said, trying not to sound too eager.

"Hello, Jane. It's Maura, Maura Isles."

"Yeah, hi…" Jane glanced at her parents, trying to figure out how to get them to leave the room without having to make the request verbally, but no dice. Her mother started drying the dishes, and Frank picked up the newspaper at the kitchen table and started to read it. As if their presence wasn't enough, Tommy had come running into the room when he'd heard it was Maura on the line, and he was now looking at Jane with the expression of a hurt puppy dog. Jane cleared her throat significantly. "What're you calling about?"

Maura, who had the luxury of having a phone in her room, was lying on her back on her bed, legs crossed. "Something I forgot to bring up this afternoon."

"And what was that?"

"Mr. Sluckey told me that you requested me specifically to tutor you in biology." Jane internally cursed, slapping her forehead. Angela shot a quizzical look at her.

"He's lying," Jane said hastily.

"Why would he lie?"

"I dunno, he wanted to make you feel better or something. He probably noticed you were always sitting on your own in class and figured maybe you could make a friend through tutor—OW!"

Maura heard Tommy's voice come through the line: "She sits with me in biology, you bonehead! She has so got friends!"

"Shut up, you little jerk!" Jane shot back, and Angela loudly told her off. "Geez—" She tried to turn away, but the cord on the phone wasn't very long, and there was no escaping her family.

"Well I certainly don't need the stress of trying to help you if you don't actually want to be tutored," Maura huffed, insulted by Jane's self-defensive rudeness. "Far be it from me to force my awful, boring, un-inebriated self on you."

"Aw, c'mon, Maura," Jane said. "You're an egghead, you like to study, right? What's it hurt you giving up an extra hour a week to help me out? I mean, you're probably hitting the books right now, aren't you?"

"Actually, I was just about to take a shower, and I don't think running water is conducive to reading," Maura said in an attempt at scathing sarcasm. When there was a short silence on the line, Maura continued, "I had gotten far enough that I had stripped down entirely before I remembered I'd been wanting to talk to you about this."

Jane felt her throat go dry at the visual, and she tried subtly to turn away from Tommy—which was difficult, as he hurried in front of her face each time she moved. Her face was red and she knew it as she slumped against the wall. "It was that important to you, huh?"

"I luxuriate in long showers. I thought someone in your house might be asleep by the time I got out, and it would be too late to telephone."

Jane bit her lip. Her first glimpses of Maura had been when the girl was mostly undressed, but now knowing her better—knowing the way her body moved, the way her face looked—it was painfully easy to picture her lying in bed, phone cord curled around a finger, as she lounged completely nude. Or, wait. "You're not just in the hallway, um… like that, are you?"

"Heavens, no! There's an extension in my room, and I'm perfectly safe talking in here _au natural._"

"Your window closed?" Jane asked, giving Tommy a pointed look.

"Yes…"

"Good. I hear it's supposed to be drafty tonight—you don't want a breeze coming in."

"No, I suppose I've gotten cold enough from you today."

Jane had no response to that. "Look, are you gonna keep tutoring me or not?"

"Do you want me to?" Silence. "It's a simple question, Jane. Do you want me to?" More silence. "Jane, if you can't even—"

"_Yes I want you,_" Jane whispered hurriedly into the phone. "I mean I want you to."

Despite being rattled by what she'd read that day, Maura couldn't help hoping that had been a genuine Freudian slip.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading, all. I'm really excited for some future plot point in this story, and I'm glad other people seem to be enjoying it so far.


	6. Hey Good Lookin'

**A/N**: How about we finally strike the match on this slow burn, hmm?

* * *

By the next week, Tommy had finally worked up the nerve to invite Maura over to his house when he knew the rest of the family would be there to meet her. Of course, he'd had a bit of a hand: Mrs. Green had assigned him, Sumner Fairfield, and Maura to work together on a presentation about Ancient Rome, and Maura was such an eager student that she suggested they get to work right away. She would have offered her own home as a place to study, but much of the first floor was in the process of being repainted, and the fumes were awful. Sumner turned down the possibility of hosting because he tried to avoid being around Garrett as much as possible, and there was a good chance he'd be home. Tommy shrugged and said his place would be fine.

After school, they stopped by the library so Tommy and Sumner could pick up some books, and then it was on to the Rizzoli house. Frankie was sitting on the front porch with his sort-of girlfriend Riley, both of them poring over a composition they'd been assigned in English. Out of habit, Frankie stuck his foot out as Tommy passed, and Tommy nimbly jumped it.

"Catchin' up there, tiger," Frankie said.

"Aw, you ain't so tough," Tommy muttered, banging into the house.

"I thought you said you and Frankie got along all right," Maura said as she and Sumner followed Tommy to the kitchen.

He shrugged. "Pop likes to make sure we keep on our toes. Don't settle. Sumner knows how it is, don't you, Sumner?"

"Brothers? Do I," Sumner grumbled. "Before Adam went to college, he and Garrett had pissing contests all the time. Now Garrett just likes to treat me as his own personal punching bag." Realizing how pathetic that made him sound to a girl, he quickly added, "Or he'd try if he could ever get a hold on me. I'm a regular Speedy Gonzalez, you know."

Maura wasn't sure how to respond to this, and Tommy only rolled his eyes. They entered the kitchen, where he knew his mother was likely to be found, and wanted to get this over with—"this" being the seemingly simple act of introducing Maura to Angela. He had already done severe coaching with her to make sure she wouldn't embarrass him too much, but he couldn't help feeling that at least some humiliation would be on its way. He cleared his throat and Angela turned from the sink, all but gasping at the sight of Maura.

"Ma, you know Sumner; this is Maura Isles," he said quickly, his words nearly slurring together in his anxiousness to get this all out and be done with it. "Maura, this is my mother, Angela Rizzoli."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rizzoli!" Maura said cheerfully, extending her hand.

Angela laughed and wiped her hand on her apron before shaking Maura's. "Honey, just call me Angela! Mrs. Rizzoli is my mother-in-law."

"Duly noted."

"Oh, aren't you adorable!" Angela giggled, giving Maura's cheek an affectionate pat. "Tommy's told us so much about…" She glanced over in time to see her son vigorously shaking his head, and she quickly switched gears: "About this project of yours! Jane tells us you're pretty sharp—these boys are lucky to have you in their group!"

"Jane told you I was sharp?" Maura asked.

"In a matter of speaking," Angela said, waving her hand. "Her biology scores have gone up, up, up ever since you started tutoring her. Hasn't she told you that?"

"No, she hasn't," Maura replied.

Angela clicked her tongue. "Honestly, that girl. No manners! I'm so sorry, honey—I'm gonna have a word with her about gratitude!"

"Oh please, Mrs—Angela, that's quite unnecessary," Maura said, hurriedly stepping in front of the woman.

"Well I needed to go outside to give her something anyway," Angela explained.

"Please, allow me."

Angela raised an eyebrow, then smiled and handed Maura a large bowl. "She's in the yard, getting the last of our berries for the season—we're planning our dessert around it tonight! Say, how would you and Sumner like to stay for dinner?"

"Sure!" Sumner said quickly.

"I'd have to telephone my parents for permission," Maura said, "but thank you for the offer."

Tommy led Sumner to the phone to call his parents, and Maura dutifully went out to the backyard to find Jane. She was half-buried in some very gnarled, thorny-looking branches, a few of which were indeed sporting raspberries. Jane had her hair pulled back and was wearing what appeared to be a plumber's uniform, complete with hat and coveralls. _Rizzoli Plumbing _was printed on the back, and Maura saw the white letters were almost as dirtied as Jane's cheeks when she pulled back from the bushes, some raspberries clutched in her hand.

Jane appeared a little startled to see Maura standing there. "Uh…hey."

"Hi," Maura said back, holding the bowl up to her chest.

"What…uh, what're you doing here?" Jane asked, looking around.

"Tommy and I have been assigned to work on a project together. He and Sumner Fairfield and I."

"And you chose this place to come study?" Jane snorted, reaching for the bowl Maura was holding and dropping some berries into it. "You ain't gonna get much done."

"Do you not consider your home to be an environment conducive to studying?" Maura asked. "I mean, where do you usually study?"

Jane shrugged. "Someplace else." She went back into the stalks for more berries, her heart still pounding a little faster than usual as she tried to recover from Maura's unexpected appearance. _I look like garbage. I just __had__ to fight Ma about wearing something practical for berry-picking out here …had to get all dirty, like some kind of animal. _Maura, as always, looked effortlessly put-together: she wore a cream-colored sweater over a yellow dress, and a pair of brown shoes that Jane actually recognized as a style she had once admired and wanted for herself before catching sight of the cost. Again as per usual, Maura looked as though she might have just wandered off a movie studio's hair and makeup lot. Was that rouge, or natural color? She waited to speak again until she could see Maura turning to leave from the corner of her eye. "Hey."

"What?" Maura sighed.

"I got back my composition on Mendel," Jane said gruffly, pulling down a branch with unnecessary force. "Got a B." When this garnered no response, she figured it was because Maura thought that was a bad grade; in reality, it was a milestone for Jane. "Then there was a pop quiz yesterday that I just got back."

"And?"

"And your tutoring's helped out. Got an A." She squinted as she scraped past a thorn after a particularly large berry. "I've never gotten higher than a B on anything related to science."

"So you were actually listening to me?" Maura asked, referring to the few sessions they'd had when Jane had allowed her to get a word in edgewise about the subject at hand.

Jane extracted herself from the stalks, tossing her new berries into the bowl. Looking Maura over, she offered her a hesitant half-smile. "Most of the time, yeah." When Maura's only response to this was to blushingly avert her gaze, Jane cast around for something else to say. "So… what's your assignment on? The one you're doing with Tommy and his friend."

"Ancient Rome. The royal court, specifically."

"Ah! Such decadence, such glory!" Jane said, raising one arm dramatically over her head in a mockery of an ancient Roman statue. "Is it safe to presume you will be the empress, and my brother and Mr. Fairfield your uselessly longing eunuchs?"

"Well!" Maura laughed. "Somebody at least paid attention in history class!"

"Sure," Jane said, popping a berry into her mouth. "I could dig being a queen back in those days. Every girl fantasizes about being a princess, right? Getting waited on, having people obey your command, people throwing themselves at you for mercy or lovin'."

"Funny; I'd have pictured you as more of a Spartan," Maura remarked.

"A what?" Jane asked, sitting down on the grass. She gestured for Maura to follow suit, and when the girl hesitated, Jane reached for a nearby lawn chair and pulled it over. Maura settled herself onto it, leaning back a bit. "There, you see?" Jane said, as Maura closed her eyes. The breeze felt nice. "Bet you're fancying yourself a regular ruler now, aren't you?"

Maura giggled, clasping her hands behind her head. "Yes, I would love to rule an entire population of subjects who don't care to listen to my rambling and believe I'm too smart—or sharp—for my own good."

"Then your subjects are idiots, like me," Jane said. Maura opened one eye in time to catch Jane sneaking another berry. "Don't they know having a woman as smart as you are in charge is only gonna save the Empire from an untimely demise?"

"I'm that good, am I?" Maura chuckled. Jane nodded, and Maura sat up a little, her voice and expression softening noticeably. "Jane, can I ask you something?"

Jane took off her cap, nervously fumbling with it before putting it back on backwards. Her guard went up at most questions, but she couldn't help feeling curious about Maura's tone what she could possibly want to ask with it. Wonder finally won out over defensiveness: "Sure," Jane said, shrugging one shoulder in a would-be curious way.

"Do you like me, or don't you?" Maura asked. _I can't imagine ever, __ever__ telling you the things you make me feel, but perhaps if you think I'm just a silly waste of space, I can tell myself not to find you attractive. _She wasn't used to this, being unable to figure people out. Either they were rude or they weren't. They were mean or nice, obvious or subtle, clever or dumb. Jane teased her and she often seemed bent on pushing Maura out of her comfort zone, but the viciousness was missing. Although Jane's initial reception of her had been cold, there was now more of a sense of playfulness in her tone and behavior. Did that make it all worse, or… a non-issue?

"I guess I've been kinda hard on you, huh?" Jane said softly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Uh… I'm sorry about all that. Um, I…" She swallowed hard, nodding at her house. "You see where I live."

"It's a lovely home," Maura said sincerely.

That sweet sincerity was part of what made it so hard to be mean. "I guess." Another shrug. "It's not nice like yours, though. When I mowed your lawn, I thought maybe I'd gotten the wrong address and was mowing the mayor's lawn, or something! We… I dunno; you ever notice the class difference at school?" Maura nodded. "I kinda saw you and thought you were gonna be like some of the other kids around here. Garrett Fairfield, Rory Graham… they're a couple of rich guys in my class, and they used to really take the tar outta people like me and Joey."

"What for?" Maura asked, sounding shocked.

"For being poor!" Jane replied, thinking it was obvious.

"You can't help your circumstances," Maura said. She appeared genuinely puzzled that anyone could even think so.

Jane almost laughed. "Yeah, well, they did. I'm glad Garrett's brother's a bit nicer than he is; doesn't care what side of the tracks Tommy's on. Anyhow, the girls ain't always much nicer either. There's this sort of trio you've gotta watch out for—or I guess you don't, 'cause you're rich and you're not in their class, but anyway. I dunno. I just kinda got it in my head that you were gonna be like those girls. Y'know, rude and all that." Even if it didn't make up the entire reason for Jane's teasing, it was all true on some level: Maura's class made her feel exceptionally insecure.

"So you lashed out before I could hurt you, even though I never would?"

"Boy, I sure read you wrong," Jane muttered. She set the bowl of raspberries down by her crossed legs, and intersected her fingers, staring down at the grass. "Look, I'm real sorry, Maura. I just don't, uh… I'm not really—I don't have a lot of friends who are girls. I'm not so good at…"

"Talking to girls?" Maura guessed quietly.

"At being, um, sensitive. So…" Her voice softened even more. "I guess my guard goes up when I'm nervous."

"Adolescent girls tend to project their insecurities on others," Maura said, which would explain why she was probably imagining the semi-aroused look in Jane's eyes.

Jane glanced away, but couldn't help looking back when she realized Maura was still staring at her. She cracked her knuckles (or tried to—she could never manage to produce the actual cracking sound, which drove her crazy. It always made people sound so tough when they could do it.) "You can't help being rich like I can't help being poor," she said. "And I was a real jerk for taking all that out on you. You've got a lot of class."

"Thank you," Maura said quietly. They sat there in uneasy silence for a few more moments, Maura still on the lawn chair and Jane still on the grass. "Can I ask you one more thing?" she said timidly.

"Sure."

"May I try a raspberry?"

Jane was about to just hand the bowl up, but then a thought occurred to her. She got onto her knees and turned to face Maura, who was looking at her curiously. "But of course!" she said theatrically. She pulled away the bowl when Maura reached for it, and her expression only got more confused. "But an empress of Rome, feeding herself? I've never heard of such a disgraceful thing! Where are those eunuchs when you need them?"

"Nowhere to be found, I'm afraid," Maura said, crossing one leg over the other. She leaned back again, letting her arms rest by her sides. "In lieu of that, I would not be opposed to, say, one of the emperor's slaves feeding me instead."

She looked pointedly at Jane, who scoffed, "I work for no man!"

"You would be _my _slave?" Maura asked, biting her lip as soon as the words escaped her mouth.

Jane smirked. "Let's not be hasty, highness. A lowly lady-in-waiting would do fine for me."

"Very well," Maura said, tilting her chin up expectedly.

Searching carefully through the bowl, Jane picked out a berry that looked particularly juicy. Her fingers trembled a bit with the pressure of trying to keep still. She whispered for Maura to open her mouth, and she obeyed, also closing her eyes on instinct. Jane pressed the berry against Maura's lips, and they closed around it. Her breath caught when those soft, pink lips brushed against her index finger; some juice had dribbled down it, and without really thinking, Maura let her tongue dart briefly to catch it. She opened her eyes and saw Jane's gaze locked onto her face, utterly transfixed. They broke apart at the same moment, Jane leaning back hurriedly and Maura sitting up.

"Good," Maura said breathlessly. "That was, uh, good."

"The berry?"

"Of course the berry. What else would I be talking about?"

"Nothing. The berry. Yeah, I'm glad you like it; we grow 'em ourselves."

Maura stood up off the lawn chair, trembling slightly. "Yes, I surmised as much. I—"

The screen door on the back porch opened just then, and both girls turned to look at it. Tommy was there, and he asked, "Whatcha still doin' out here, Maura? Sumner's done with the horn if you want to call your parents." Addressing the question Jane was about to ask, he added, "They might be staying for dinner. Sumner can, that is."

"Can you feed yourself if you stay?" Jane asked, grinning to let Maura know it was a joke.

"I think I'm capable," Maura bantered back. She followed Tommy into the house, still a little uneasy about Jane's behavior. Still, she felt some sort of line had been crossed—in a good way. It felt like Jane trusted her now, and she felt a little more comfortable around Maura. This was, of course, problematic in its own way: if Jane's sharp edges had softened, fighting an attraction to her was going to be even more difficult.

The phone rang twice at the Isles home before the maid picked up: "Hello; Isles residence."

"Hello, Yvette. It's Maura."

"Ah, Miss Isles. Good afternoon!"

"Afternoon. I don't suppose my mother is home?"

"She is home, but doesn't wish to be disturbed at the moment. What time shall we send Clyde over to collect you from the library?"

"Oh, I'm actually at, er, a friend's house, not the library. And I've been invited to spend the dinner hour with them. I don't suppose you'd mind informing my parents?"

"Miss Isles, I'm afraid they expect you for dinner this evening. The Dean of BCU and his wife will be joining us, and your father made a point of telling you how eager he was for you to meet them, remember?"

"Oh, of course," Maura sighed, frowning at Tommy, whose face fell.

"How much time do you anticipate needing to get ready? When shall I send Clyde for you?"

"That won't be necessary," Maura said quickly, eying Jane, who was still in the yard.

"Your friend can give you a ride?"

"Yes. I will be there in time for drinks, don't worry."

"Very well, Miss Isles. We'll be seeing you."

Maura hung up and turned apologetically to Angela. "I'm sorry, Angela, but I completely forgot that my parents had already arranged for a special dinner this evening. I need to be present for it."

"Oh, how sad for us!" Angela mourned. "But I'm sure your parents are putting together something absolutely divine. Maybe we can have you another time!"

"I would love that."

Tommy then insisted they needed to get started on their project, and he all but pushed Maura into the living room. Sumner was occupied building a fort out of the books all three of them had assembled. Maura turned out to be by far the most studious classmate either boy had ever worked with, and Tommy could already see he was on his way to a rare A grade. Maura glanced up when Jane walked past the living room, and she got a tad distracted when she heard a shower running overhead, knowing Jane was in it. Idly she fanned herself with a notebook as she read a passage from a library book to the boys, who figured she had just gotten warm.

When Jane cut the water off about fifteen minutes later, she nearly slipped in the shower at the sound of a loud knock on the bathroom door. "Janie!"

"Yeah, Ma?"

"I need you to take Maura home."

"Wh—why?"

"Well I'd drive her, but you know the car's in the shop. And I don't have the time to walk her; I've got a dinner to finish fixing."

"Can't…Tommy…?"

"Tommy's got a guest staying for dinner! It would be horribly rude of him to leave. I'd have Frankie do it, but he's gone off for a shake with Riley. Will it kill you to walk the girl home?"

"No, it wouldn't _kill _me," Jane sighed. "Tell her I'll do it."

"Oh, wonderful! Thank you, Janie!"

"My pleasure."

After hastily towel-drying her hair, Jane dashed to her room, and for the first time in her life, made an effort to put together a nice ensemble. She had certainly never looked so long or so critically at her closet, noting that maybe it _was _time to take Angela up on her offer to buy her some new clothes. Both pairs of jeans she owned were in the hamper; she yanked out the least dirty and set to work rubbing out a clump of dirt near the knee. Once it was suitably clean, she yanked them on and settled on a red plaid shirt—one Angela had admitted suited her, despite its boyishness. There wasn't much she could ever do about her hair, so she let it just hang as it did, all damp curls and dark tangles. She spent a good while staring at herself in the full-length mirror in her closet, critically attempting to analyze every aspect of her appearance. She flipped her hair over one shoulder, then the other, then shook it behind her back. One hand tucked itself into her pocket, thumb out; then both thumbs hooked through her belt loops. Hips leaned forward. One eyebrow arched. No, maybe the other.

"Walk you home?" "What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?" "Heyyy, good-lookin'." "Of course that was a joke, little lady." "Sorry my brother can't take you home; guess you're stuck with me." "That okay?" "Where do you live?" _Oh, I already know the answer to that. _

She didn't realize how much time had passed before there was a light knock at her door. "Yeah?" she called out.

"Um…it's Maura," came a faint voice. "If this is a convenient time for you, Jane, I really ought to be heading home soon."

"Oh, sure," Jane said, quickly grabbing her Chucks and stepping into them. She opened her door and saw Maura standing there, clutching five books to her chest. "Here," Jane offered, taking them out of the girl's hands. "Let me."

Jane headed for the stairs, and Maura tried to catch up. "Oh Jane, that's all right—"

"Yeah, it is," she replied, swinging the books out of Maura's reach. "I got 'em." She jumped the last two steps and shouted a farewell to her mother (who responded unseen from the kitchen with "don't shout"), then nodded at Tommy and Sumner. "Have fun with your boyfriend while I'm gone," she said with a bit of a sneer.

"Aw, you think you're so funny," Tommy grumbled, waving her off.

Jane opened the door for Maura and winked at her brother before walking out. "So! No chauffer this evening?"

"No," Maura replied simply. "I've never walked in this area before. I like walking in places I've never explored."

"Well then," Jane said a little deviously. "Ever been in a back alley, Miss Isles?"

"Can't say I have."

"In a moment, you won't be able to say that anymore."

Jane turned and led the way down a gravel path which led to a long alleyway. Maura was definitely lost; the backs of the houses now facing them were a far cry from her own, and didn't even seem to be as nice as Jane's suburb. A few open windows allowed them to eavesdrop on arguments going on in languages not even Maura could understand, and the few kids she saw around were definitely not faces she recognized from school. They turned a corner, and handsome black boy called out to Jane.

"Hey, Frost," she called back. He got up off the stoop he'd been sitting on, smiling at Maura. "Hey square, this is Frost. Frost, this is Maura Isles."

"Hi," he said, hands tucked into his back pockets.

Maura held out her hand. "Hello, Frost."

Jane smiled and Frost glanced at her before shaking Maura's hand. "She's new this year," Jane said. "Frost and I are sorta by-accident buddies."

"There was an accident and now we're buddies," Frost said, nudging Jane.

"How nice!"

"We like to think so. Anyhow, we'd better keep goin' along if you want to get home in a timely manner, Maura."

"Oh. Well, it was nice to meet you, Frost."

"You too, Maura. Hope I see you around."

"That would be nice, yes!" She waited until they had rounded another corner, entering a more public road that she was actually familiar with. "How did you fall in with him?" Her tone was curious, not disgusted or shocked.

"Like he said, an accident. He helped me out of a tight spot once, and we've been kinda close because of it ever since."

"Oh. Well I think it's quite lovely that you're friends, Jane, I really do."

"Really? Not many other people I know would be inclined to agree."

"That's the problem with people over here. You're all hypocrites."

"What?"

"My father and I'm presuming your father both fought in a war whose goal was to end race prejudice. Men like Adolf Hitler and Herr Goebbels believed—actually _believed_—that they were so superior to people of another race that they didn't hesitate to dispatch of them in the most brutal ways imaginable. Now I understand we have no camps in America as horrendous as Auschwitz, but I was very disappointed to learn of some of the laws and prejudices still in place here. The age of slavery is over. Any doctor will tell you that the brain of an average colored man is no smaller or less inept than that of an average white man's, nor is his blood any more diluted if you needed a donor. They are kept from living in the nicest areas and after decades of enslavement, they are still unable to join most respectable professions nearly a century later. They are allowed to fight for democracy only in a segregated army and go overseas to fight race prejudice, only to come right back home to it. Isn't there something awful about that, Jane?"

Jane had never heard such a detailed argument against racism. She had never really thought about it much, accepting only that it was the way things were and how they likely always would be. It upset her to know she probably couldn't bring Frost over for dinner, and it upset her the way some of her former friends had reacted upon learning she was pals with him. And yet she had never come to his defense as eloquently or passionately as Maura had just now.

This girl was all right.

"It's awful," she finally muttered. "You're right. It's…" She glanced over, noticing that Maura was limping a little. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'll be fine. I just hadn't anticipated walking all the way home when I chose to wear these shoes."

"Didn't you wear them to school?"

"And to the library, then your house. That's the point—my feet are aching something terrible!" Hearing this, Jane came to a halt. She got on one knee, starting to untie one of her shoes. "Jane, what're you doing?" There was no response as Jane untied the other shoe, then stood back up and pulled each one off. "Jane?"

"Here," Jane said. "Put these on."

"I—can't! What will you wear?"

"Socks," Jane said with a shrug. "Look, I don't wanna be the one who brings you home and has you dripping blood all over your mother's nice carpets 'cause your feet got sore. Just put 'em on and don't argue, okay?"

Maura hesitated, waiting for Jane to draw back her shoes and laugh. Instead, she looked on patiently as Maura slowly lifted each foot high enough to pull off her dress shoes. When they were both removed, Jane took them in her free hand and gave Maura the black Converses. They wound up being a touch too big, but if she double-knotted them and didn't walk too fast, she was all right.

"There ya go," Jane laughed. "They look gorgeous with that outfit."

"I think I like it!" Maura giggled. "Adds a touch of whimsy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. Shall we proceed?"

"Let's."

Neither spoke for another block or two. Maura enjoyed the silence, thinking it was comfortable, but Jane didn't like being quiet for too long. She found it unsettling. "Have anything else you wanna ask me?" she finally said, cuing an intrigued look from Maura. "I just figure we oughtta talk about _some_thing, and what subject could be better than little ole me?"

"Well all right then," Maura laughed. "Hm…what do I want to ask Jane Rizzoli?"

"Anything. Anything at all."

"How tall are you?"

"Five foot ten."

"Have you lived here your whole life?"

"Yep."

"How many boys have you kissed?"

"Two."

"Are you single, or taken?"

"I'm seeing a guy."

"Think it will last?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a best friend who was a girl?"

"Yeah."

This actually surprised her a little. "Really? Who?"

Jane sighed, kicking at a small rock. "Her name was—well, it still is—Emily Richards. We were real close all through grammar school and almost all of junior high. It was a little weird 'cause she came from this real wealthy family, always rolling in the dough—"

"They were a family of wealthy bakers?" Maura asked.

It took Jane a moment to get it. "Dough like _money_, Maura."

"You say that like it's so obvious."

"Well, it is! Everyone knows that!"

"I don't!"

"All right, she was _rich_, okay? And I'm not. But we both liked to play softball, and we were both real good at it. So we got close."

"What happened?"

Jane grimaced. A light in front of them changed and she held out an arm to stop Maura from blindly crossing the street. "She grew a great pair of knockers."

"A pair of…oh."

"Yeah. So naturally all the boys started going for her, even if they didn't say why. It was pretty obvious. And I still thought boys were the pits at that point, and she had to, until they started paying attention to her. So she dumped me for them, became best friends with Debbie Nickels and Kate Thompson, and they turned into the three witches from _MacBeth_."

"Nice Shakespearean reference," Maura said.

Jane rolled her eyes and started crossing the street. "Anyway, that's what happened."

"Is that another reason you were insecure around me initially?" Maura asked. "It wasn't only a matter of our class differences; it's that I reminded you of Emily. We're both wealthy, we took interest in a Rizzoli, and we both have exceptional breasts."

Jane recoiled as if Maura had slapped her. "Hhhey—I didn't, I don't—no. It's not that."

"You don't think my breasts are exceptional?" Maura teased her. _Let's see if she can take a little of her own medicine. _"The Empress gives you permission to look, Jane."

Jane sighed shortly and glanced at Maura, barely able to scowl when Maura had such an impish grin on her face. "Your breasts are incredible," she said flatly.

"You're not going to say it like you mean it?"

Jane looked around warily; this was a crowded street, after all. "Not outside your bed chambers, your highness," she whispered, leaning closer.

She pulled back and Maura was staring at her, trying not to smile. But then Jane chuckled, and Maura laughed, and soon they were both in slight hysterics as they continued down the sidewalk. After years of shutting people out and snapping or lashing—a result, Jane was realizing, of Emily's betrayal—humor appeared to be making a comeback as Jane's defense mechanism. As far as Jane was concerned, Maura's chest could give Emily's a good run for its money, and by making such an outlandish joke, she hoped she had hidden how true she thought it was. While Maura was also wishing the comment hadn't been in made in jest, she couldn't help being amused by Jane's goofiness, a quality she had rarely encountered in her boarding school.

Suddenly they found themselves at Maura's home. Time had escaped them both. They had already said a casual goodbye before remembering Jane's shoes were on Maura's feet and Maura's shoes were in Jane's hands. They quickly did an exchange, Maura remarking she would probably just barely have time to shower before dinner.

"The Empress _can _do that on her own, yes?" Jane joked, raising her eyebrows.

"I should certainly hope so!" Maura responded, slipping her feet back into her painful shoes. A blister was definitely forming by her heel. "Although if any eunuchs come near—"

"Hey." Jane brushed Maura's chin with the tip of her knuckle. "Anybody comes near, you just give me a ring from the phone in your room, okay?"

"It's a deal."


	7. Teenager in Love

**A/N**: Jane gets to be a bit of a show-off, and Maura learns to be a bit of a rebel.

* * *

Next week when Maura arrived in Mr. Sluckey's room, it was to see that he was already gone and Jane was at the window, trying to open it with one knee on the sill. The guilty look that initially spread over her face led Maura to believe she wasn't just trying to get some fresh air.

"Jane! _What do you think you're doing?_" Maura hissed, fearful that even though the door was closed, somebody was liable to overhear her.

"It's not just me, it's we," Jane said, finally getting the window open. "C'mon, square. Let's go."

"Go where?!"

"I dunno, out!"

Maura looked honestly shocked, unable to believe Jane was serious. In fact, judging by her expression, Jane might have just suggested they go grave-robbing. "We are in school! We're supposed to be in school! I'm supposed to be helping you study for your next exam—"

"Okay, okay, we can do it when we get there."

"Get where?!"

"The sewer, Maura. Geez, relax! I was just thinking we could go for a malt or something. We'll bring the books, and it'll be like we never left!"

"Except for the part where we left school grounds during a study period, you mean?"

"C'mon, Maura, I can't stand looking at these same four boring walls another minute."

"What've you been doing all year, then?"

"Well see, recently, I could focus my attention on _you_, not the walls," Jane said with a little teasing smirk, which Maura had no idea how to receive. "But now that I've gotten accustomed to you, I need a change of scene again."

"Is this your way of telling me you're tired of me?" Maura sighed, ready to be offended.

With a final grunt, Jane pushed the window open enough to slide through. "Of course not. If I were tired of you, I wouldn't be asking you to come with me, and I'm asking you. Maura, please? It won't be any fun if you don't come along."

That was certainly a sentiment and a sentence Maura had never heard before. As Jane's puppy dog eyes looked earnestly at her, Maura couldn't help feeling strangely moved by the invitation to accompany her in truancy. Jane wasn't trying to ditch, she was trying to go someplace she liked and bring Maura (and their books) along for the ride. Tagging along with a bunch of kids who were indifferent to her presence was worlds away from receiving a personalized, individual request—and not specifically for her mind or her looks, but for fun. Jane wasn't entirely sure what all was going through Maura's mind as she slowly clutched her books to her chest, fighting a smile.

"You…um, is that a yes?" Jane asked hesitantly.

"What if Mr. Sluckey comes back and we're not here?"

"Maura, it's not like we'd be the first people to cut out."

"But what would happen?"

"They'd call our folks, and from what you've told me, yours ain't even home at this hour, so what do you care?"

Maura glanced once more at the door. "Will you promise to have me back in time for history?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Jane grinningly answered. "Look, Maura, just don't even think. Just do. Let's go, it'll be fun."

This proved easier said than done. Having done this before, Jane knew what she was doing when she put one leg out over the sill. Maura watched carefully as Jane shifted so that she was sitting entirely on the sill, and then—with an un-called for level of show-off bravado—jumped to the grass below. It was only a first story window, but when Maura cautiously edged out onto the sill, it looked as though the jump might've been a good forty feet. Jane gestured for her to jump down, but Maura clung to a nearby drainpipe and shook her head.

"C'mon, you're not gonna chicken out on me _now, _are you?" Jane asked exasperatedly.

"I can't," Maura squeaked.

"Maura, come on. Just jump down, I'll catch you."

"You can't catch me!"

"Why not?" Jane asked dryly. "Are you the gingerbread man?"

"I'm—what?"

"Geez, you chicks in Europe don't learn a thing. It's an old—oh, never mind! C'mon, I promise I'll catch you, and you're not gonna make me buckle. I mean, what do you weigh, a hundred twenty pounds?"

"A hundred and sixteen point eight," Maura responded, sounding a little offended.

"Well, then, come on!" Jane whispered urgently, holding out her arms. "Look, the worst that'll happen is you'll fall and hurt something. And you're like the nurse's apprentice, so you'd know how to heal yourself in the very unlikely event that you _do _get hurt, because the only way you'd get hurt is if I missed you or I let you fall, and I won't."

"You won't?"

"Geez, Maura, don't you trust me?"

"Considering your behavior until very recently, I don't know if I—"

"JUST _JUMP,_ DAMMIT!"

More out of fear that someone heard Jane shout and would come running into the classroom than out of a desire to actually do it, Maura closed her eyes and pushed herself off of the sill. True to her word, Jane quickly maneuvered herself to be in a position to keep Maura from injury: she managed to catch the girl, but the force of the fall was such that she got knocked to the ground. Still, Jane had been able to land in such a way that Maura was on her lap, Jane's arms awkwardly looped around her. As Maura tried to catch her breath, she looked at Jane, who appeared equally breathless but was also smiling.

"See?" she said. "Told ya I wouldn't let _you _fall."

Maura quickly got to her feet, offering Jane a hand to help her up. "Oh, Jane!" she groaned. "Your dress! It'll have grain stains all over it."

"Aw, par for the course," Jane muttered, leading the way off campus. "It ain't an issue, I promise. Now are you gonna walk, I do I gotta drag you there?"

"You know, while we're working on your biology, I think your elocution could be improved as well," Maura said, catching up.

"My what?"

"Your elocution. Articulation. Enunciation."

Jane shivered. "_Ugh_, that word. My Ma tells me that all the time—'_Jane, enunciate!'_"

"And not without merit, in my opinion."

"I didn't ask for it."

"Yes, well, friends aren't supposed to wait to be asked." She paused her speech there as they kept walking, half-waiting for Jane to deny the label of friendship, but no such thing happened. Jane merely rolled her eyes in an amused way, indicating for Maura to go on. "Your grammar could probably stand to be improved, also."

"How'd you like to see my next report card?" Jane asked. "English is my best subject." She was smiling but sounded entirely serious, which she saw took Maura by surprise. "This is just the way I talk. If I have to actually sit down and compose something, I do okay. Reading, too. Seems I'm the only person in my class who remembers 'wherefore' means 'why' in that soliloquy from _Romeo and Juliet _we studied a few years ago."

"Then why don't you make more of an effort when you speak?" Maura asked, honestly curious. "The way a person talks is considered to be in correlation with their level of intelligence, and thus your future employability really is at stake. Oh," she amended quickly, "that is, _if _you consider potential employment significant to your future. If you don't, though, you still might be interested in attracting someone as intelligent as you are, in which case you should start speaking like you're as smart as you are."

"Oh boy," Jane chuckled. "I would _love _to hear Maura Isles' take on the rules of attraction."

Maura shrugged. "Quite simple, really. People are attracted to people who are attracted to them."

"Hm. That's the secret to love, huh?"

"No longer a secret, now that I've told you."

That earned another "hm." They walked along in silence for a few moments more before curiosity got the best of Jane: "So uh, what's your type? I mean… what type are you attracted to?"

Now Maura was focusing most of her attention on walking in a straight line and not letting her gaze drift to Jane. "Oh, I suppose I'm attracted to the athletic type. Good health is very appealing to me."

"And he'd have to be smart, right?" Jane asked, kicking at a rock in her path.

"Naturally, but not smart in the way I'm smart."

Jane grinned at her, but Maura missed it. "You wanna have the edge, huh?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I would want someone who could challenge me. So, smart in a different way. I don't know everything there is to know about everything, Jane, and I can't realistically ever hope to. A good way to start, though, would ideally be by finding someone who had an intellectual drive similar to mine, with some converging but, equally importantly, _diverging _interests. If two people are too compatible, it could get dull very quickly."

"Huh. I never thought of it that way," Jane mused.

Maura just shrugged again. "I suppose I don't have to ask about _your _type. You're still steady with that boy, aren't you? Joey?"

"Oh, him?" Jane mumbled. "Ah, I guess. We're not real lovebirds, y'know."

"You certainly could've fooled me! I don't think I could even hazard an estimate of how many times I've seen you two going at it in the hallway, when there are no monitors around."

"Aw, kissing don't mean nothin'," Jane said. Maura threw her a withering look, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the bad grammar or the flippancy of the remark. "C'mon, Maura. Wherefore you gotta look at me like that, huh?"

The quip got Maura to laugh, and Jane was glad she was in good spirits just as they approached the soda shop Jane had been wanting to get to. She stepped ahead in time to get the door for Maura, then followed her inside. There were a few older couples keeping to the booths on the far end of the place, and some college kids made up the rest of the room. Three or four were dancing along to the latest Chuck Berry single, and Jane tried to get Maura to loosen up a bit as she led the way to the counter. However, Maura remained the consummate little lady as her perfect posture and genteel gait provided the perfect foil for Jane's finger-snapping and exaggerated hip-swaying as she crossed the checkered floor.

"Hey," said the man behind the bar, who looked severe and gruff as Maura finally walked up. "Shouldn't you kids be in school?"

"School's a prison, old man."

"Old man! And how'd you like it if I told _your _old man—or a truant officer—that you're cuttin' school, Jane Rizzoli?"

"Aw, you don't care so long as you're getting the business, Murray!" Jane crowed, and the man couldn't help smiling in return. "Besides, I've got here a student who's new to the states this year. I bet she ain't ever had a—"

"I _have _had malts, actually," Maura said, remembering Jane's earlier suggestion.

"Phosphate, then. I bet you ain't ever had a chocolate phosphate."

"No, I can't say that I have."

Jane slapped the counter. "See that, Murray?"

"Royal shame, a kid your age never havin' a phosphate."

"Darn right. You'd better up and bring us t…" Suddenly looking as though she'd remembered something, Jane fished through the coins of her sweater pocket and frowned. "Better make that one chocolate phosphate, and bring two straws, Murray." This time when she slapped the counter, it was with change in hand, and then she twirled around on her stool to stand next to Maura. "C'mon, I'll get you a box seat in this joint."

"I suppose we _are _here for a show," Maura remarked as they passed by the throng of dancing teenagers. "Do you really intend to attempt getting any work done?"

"That depends," Jane sighs. "Would you rather talk about biology, or about you and me?"

Maura nearly dropped her books as she slid into the booth across from Jane. "What do you mean, you and me?" she asked quickly.

Jane shrugged. "I mean you, and I mean me. There's still plenty I'd like to know about you, Maura Isles, and I'm sure you've still got questions for me."

"Well," Maura said. "I do suppose I'm still curious about Joey."

This apparently did not please Jane. Waving her hand and leaning back in her seat, she balked, "Why're you so interested?"

"I'm just interested in what attracts you to him when you make faces like that and use that tone when he isn't around."

Jane leaned over the table, lowering her voice. "Ever been on a motorbike, Maura?"

She looked scandalized at the very notion. "Of course not!"

"Why d'you say it like that?"

"Motorcycles are terribly dangerous, not to mention their association with… well, disreputable characters."

"Yeah, like Joey," Jane said with a grimace, and Maura looked immediately apologetic. "Hey, don't be sorry. I guess they've got a reputation for a reason. But I love riding on that bike, Maura. Just wish it didn't have to be with him. Anyway, I figure maybe if I convince him well enough, I could get him to let me use it when his family goes to Cape Cod for Thanksgiving. Then I could have it to myself and just ride on into the sunset." She closed her eyes, smiling dreamily. "Wind in my face. Nothin' between me and those handlebars and freedom."

Maura had to smile a little at Jane's fantasy. "You paint quite a picturesque image, Jane."

"Mm-hm. And you know what I'd really like?" she asked, her eyes opening. "When Joey rides, he wears these glasses his dad got in the air force during the war—aviators, I think he called 'em."

"Oh, I've seen photographs of men wearing those," Maura said. "Ray-Bans were very popular with the French army, you know. I imagine they would protect a motorist's eyes fairly well."

"Yeah," Jane sighed. "Guess they might look kinda silly on a chick though, huh?"

"I don't know if I'd say that," Maura murmured, shifting in her seat a little. "I think they might look very good on you."

Jane's eyebrows rose. "Yeah?"

Maura met her gaze. "Yes."

The moment was interrupted when Murray stepped up, dropping not only the tall phosphate glass, but a plate with a cheeseburger and fries. When Jane looked up at him in surprise, he grunted, "Figured the little lady deserved a proper introduction to fine American cuisine. Burger and fries are on the house."

"Gee, Murray, thanks!"

He was already walking away, waving his hand at them. "Just don't expect it again."

Jane eyed the burger gleefully, excited for Maura to try it. She looked up and didn't quite know what to make of Maura's expression, although it was clear she was not exactly thrilled at the prospect of trying the burger. "Don't tell me you aren't gonna eat that."

"Well, I've already had lunch," Maura said. "It will disrupt my eating schedule."

"Eating schedule? What're you, an inmate?"

"Of course not! I only mean that I like to stick to a certain regimen for ideal nutrition and health. It stipulates three square meals a day, and I certainly doubt that _that…_" She warily eyed the burger, which had juice dripping from it. "Is particularly healthy."

"You worry too much," Jane snorted, pulling the plate over and picking up the burger. To Maura's slight horror, she took a large bite and proceeded to talk through it: "Life's too short to quibble about stuff like that. You're already havin' the phosphate, aren't you?"

"I'm sharing it with you, and I think that suffices." She bit her lip as Jane chewed off more of the burger, and from the look on her face, it might've been an aphrodisiac. "Well," Maura eventually said. "Maybe just a _bite_."

"Atta girl," Jane laughed, handing the burger over to Maura. She had to giggle again when Maura set it carefully down on the plate, approaching it with a knife and fork. "Boy, you sure are a class act, Maura Isles. I've never seen anyone chow down on a burger like that."

"Hm," Maura said thoughtfully after her first bite. "That's actually quite good."

"Told you," Jane said smugly, folding her arms in pride as Maura went for a second try. "Now go _real _crazy and try a French fry."

"Are they made from real potatoes?"

"Of course! Go on, live a little. You're already rebelling."

Maura glanced around, as if worried one of her parents might suddenly walk into a dive like this and exclaim their shock at her shift in culinary habits. But as no such thing was bound to happen, she smiled at Jane and picked up a fry, dipping it in some ketchup at Jane's suggestion. "Oh," she sighed. "That really is delicious!"

As Maura reached for another two or three, Jane laughed, "We shoulda asked Murray if he could've spared some more! At this rate, you're gonna devour everything! You're gonna want to be careful not to drink the phosphate as fast as you're eating those fries—you're liable to get a headache."

Wondering if that was a valid theory, Maura shifted to get to the straw that was sticking out of the phosphate towards her side of the booth. She didn't realize Jane was already at work on the other, and their foreheads bumped rather painfully. Jane laughed into the drink and withdrew, sputtering slightly, as Maura giggled and apologized. She indicated for Jane to take another sip before she tried again, but Jane insisted they could drink from it simultaneously—provided they were a little more careful this time. Leaning back a little more this time, Jane returned her lips to the straw, and watched as Maura did the same. She grinned to herself as she watched the shift in Maura's expression from hesitantly curious to (once again) delight.

Maura really did look lovely today, though that was always the best word to describe her appearance. A blue silk bow kept her hair in a ponytail and out of her face, which itself was made up as much as their school would allow: a touch of rouge on her cheeks and a hint of eyeliner that really made her hazel eyes pop. Actually, her eyes looked greener than usual today thanks to the color of her dress. How was it that every feature of a person could be so peerlessly beautiful? It was hardly fair and hardly seemed to make sense.

For her part, Maura was trying to focus on the flavor of the phosphate and not the proximity of her face to Jane's. Soon she would have to pull back from the straw to catch a decent breath if for no other reason. She succeeded in avoiding a glance at Jane until a repeated line in the new jukebox song finally broke through her conscious:

_ Why must I be a teenager in love? _

Her eyes shot automatically up at Jane, and she was startled to see Jane was staring back at her. Maura pulled away from the glass, leaning back in her seat. Jane straightened as well, raising a thin eyebrow at Maura's sudden pullback, not to mention the blush that was quickly overtaking much of her complexion.

"You're right," Maura stammered. "Headache."

"Good stuff, huh?" Jane asked.

"Yes. Yes, it was."

Suddenly there was a shout from the door of the shop, and Jane turned around in her seat to see one of the college girls had been thrown to the floor, and a boy was running out the door with her purse in his hand. Her friends were helping her up, and Maura was about to suggest to Jane that somebody call for a cop, but Jane was already gone. Maura was rooted to her seat in shock as she saw Jane race out of the shop, faster than a greyhound. Eyes wide, she stood up slowly to get a better view as Jane zig-zagged through traffic to get to the boy, who'd tried to make an escape by crossing the street. Everyone in the shop was watching, pressed up against the glass, as Jane caught up to the boy and grabbed the handle of the purse from his shoulder. He wheeled around ready to sock her, but was caught off guard by the fact that he'd been snatched by a girl. Jane took full advantage of his surprise by giving him a hard shove to the chest and taking back the purse. He stumbled to the sidewalk, and Jane exchanged a few words with a store owner who'd stepped outside before she calmly crossed the street again.

"Holy Moses," sighed a friend of the robbed girl. "Imagine if she were a boy? What a dream!"

Jane returned to the shop to mild applause, wiping a few strands of curled hair away from her forehead. She was flushed from running, and for the first time, Maura found her gaze dropping down to Jane's legs, long, tanned, muscular. How had she never noticed them before?

_What a dream. _

* * *

Shortly after that exciting escapade, they headed back for school. For as short and unproblematic as it had seemed to Jane, Maura didn't appear able to stop talking about it. "That really was very reckless, Jane. What if he'd hurt you? What if he'd mugged you?"

"That guy wasn't so tough. Just tried to make a break for it and he didn't make it out so easy, that's all. Don't be such a girl about it."

"Well as I _am _a girl, please don't hold my _girlishness _against me," Maura said, rolling her eyes. "I'm only concerned about your safety."

"Hey, I'm okay, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"And the girl got her purse back, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

"Oh, nothing," Maura sighed. "I have to admit, it _was _a rather impressive feat."

"Rather impressive, hm? What's a guy—what's a person gotta do that you'd step it up from 'rather' to just full-on impressive?" Jane asked with a grin.

"Well goodness, I'm sure I don't know," Maura laughingly replied.

"Yeah, well. When you figure it out, let me know."

"You'll be the first."

When they returned to the school, it dawned on Maura that she had no idea how they were supposed to sneak back into Mr. Sluckey's room. The window was too high up to hoist one's self back onto the sill, and from what she could see, there was nothing nearby that could double as a ladder or a grappling hook (…not that she could think of anything that might sufficiently double for a grappling hook). Before she could panic, Jane got on one knee in front of her, lacing her fingers together.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost," she said.

A day or two ago, Maura might have protested or questioned Jane's seriousness, but now she had experienced enough to know that Jane meant it and was going to have her way. Sighing in trepidation, Maura stepped carefully onto Jane's interwoven hands. She couldn't help a little squeak of fright as Jane started to boost her up, and she anxiously latched onto the sill, using it to pull herself mostly up so the majority of her weight wouldn't be resting on Jane.

"Can you pull yourself inside?" Jane asked.

"I think so."

"Go ahead, slugger."

Rather ungracefully, Maura crawled over the sill and managed to land on her feet in the classroom. It was certainly a good thing that the room was unoccupied, or else whoever would've been in there would have gotten quite a show. "How are you going to get in?" Maura asked anxiously, leaning out the window and looking down at Jane.

Resourceful as ever, Jane grabbed hold of the drainpipe that ran by the window, and quickly scaled the outer wall. Once at the height of the sill, she smoothly moved over to grab it, hoisting herself onto it. Nodding for Maura to give her space, Jane slid into the room and closed the window after her. Wiping her hands together, she rolled her shoulders and went to sit at the desk she normally occupied when Maura came to tutor her.

"See?" she said as Maura walked over to join her. "No harm, no foul."

Maura opened her mouth to say something, but just then, the bell rang shrilly. The door to the room opened, and Mr. Sluckey cheerfully walked inside. "So! How went the lesson today, girls?"

"Real informative, Mr. Sluckey," Jane replied, getting to her feet. She smiled at Maura. "I'm gettin' schooled real good over here."

With a wink, Jane had grabbed her belongings and exited the room, leaving Maura in a slight daze. Happily oblivious, Mr. Sluckey straightened a stack of papers on his desk and conversationally said, "I can't thank you enough for your help with Jane, Maura. Her grades have improved remarkably since you agreed to tutor her! No doubt you've got a knack, but I'm sure it helps when the student in question admires you. What d'you think of her, Maura?"

This time it was a sigh of defeat that escaped Maura's lips as her posture slumped, chin resting in her hand as she stared almost wistfully at the spot by the door Jane had most recently occupied. Already she was conjuring images of some smooth jerk stealing one of her belongings and Jane racing to the rescue—maybe on a motorcycle, maybe with some aviators, maybe suggesting afterwards that she might like a reward more personable than a "thank you."

"Jane Rizzoli? I think she's wonderful."

* * *

**A/N**: So yeah :) If anymore cute '50s cliches come to mind that you'd like to see incorporated, just let me know and I'll do my best. Until then, reviews are love! :)


	8. Step By Step

**A/N**: Remember that moment in, I think, the season 2 finale where Jane is on the phone with Dean and her voice is all sweet and lovey-dovey, but then work calls and she has to remember snap back into badass mode? I thought that was pretty cute (Dean notwithstanding) and sort of incorporated it into a moment here.

* * *

"So how your kids doing these days, Frank?"

"You know, Jim, I think they're okay." With a happy sigh, Frank gave the pipe another wrench. "Frankie's all but pinned this girl down the block, and I think Tommy's finally set his cap for a girl, too. Real smart kid, from what I hear."

"You said Tommy's pals with one of the Fairfield boys, right? Is he looking at one of their neighbors?"

"Yeah, Ange said her name was… Isles, I think? Maureen, or Moira…"

"Oh, Maura."

"Know her?"

"Her father's a professor of philosophy," Jim said, and he and Frank exchanged a laugh. Jim was the coach for BCU's renowned football team, and while his own son—the star quarterback—was quite taken with Desmond Isles' philosophy class, his father was less impressed with what he saw as a bunch of self-indulgent, silly posturing. "Anyway, the Isles have got a lot of money, you can be sure of that. I haven't met Maura, but I've seen her pictures in her father's office. Pretty girl."

"Yeah, that's what my family says," Frank said with a grin. "Hope I can meet her soon!"

"And how about your girl, how's Jane? Still driving Angela up the wall?"

"Ah, you know how mothers and daughters are," Frank chuckled. "Jane's like my third son, but Angela won't have it. Poor kid. You know, if she was a boy, I think she could really go places. She'd make one hell of a soldier, or a cop, maybe. Angela sorta hoped that maybe Jane would grow into it all, you know, enjoy getting dressed up and made up and all that, but she's still my same old Jane."

"Still rather stay in and watch a fight on TV than go to the salon, huh?"

"Boy, you called it!"

"She still got that boyfriend? How's he feel about her uh, distaste for feminine activities?"

"Who, Joey? Aw, he's a good sport. I think he's likes Jane 'cause she ain't like other girls, you know? She's not silly and simpering, and thank God for that. Hey, speaking of silly and simpering, where's your wife?"

Jim just rolled his eyes again, indulging in giving Frank a fake laugh. "She's at her mother's. Old girl's still sick."

"Oh, sorry about that."

"Yeah. She took Jean and Mallory with her, so it looks like I'm a bachelor tonight."

"Well that's no good," Frank said, getting up from under the sink. "I mean your solitude. Sink should be fine now. Why don't you have dinner with us tonight, huh?"

"Gee, I'd hate to put you and Angela out…"

"Don't be ridiculous! I was thinking of having some of the boys over for a little poker tonight, some of the old gang. Angela's doing her manicotti tonight—what were you preparing to do, roast a couple weenies? Come on, brother." He clapped Jim on the back, then washed his hands. He didn't begrudge Jim the nice house he had, and he didn't feel funny doing the man's plumbing. They had served their country together, and that was a bond that transcended what might have been any ill feelings about class. Frank dried his hands and said, "Let me borrow your phone, Jim, and I'll let Angela know to pick up an extra few things at the store."

"Aw, Frank, don't bother… besides, the line was busy when you got here, wasn't it?"

Frank was already at the phone dialing his house. "I don't want to hear another word of complaint, you old bat, or I'll really let you have it—which is about all I can promise Angela if she's stillgot the line tied up!" he chuckled. Jim watched Frank's smile slowly fade as he stood by the phone, eventually hanging it up. "Incredible," he muttered. "It's _still _busy! What the hell do broads talk about so long that they're on the phone almost an _hour?_"

"Beats me," Jim snorted. "You should've seen our bill last month! Carole just gabs and gabs to her friends on the telephone every minute of every day, and Mallory's starting to follow in her footsteps. For all you know, that could be Jane tying up your line!"

Starting to put away his tools, Frank just laughed. "You don't know my Jane! She's too sensible to be like other women. You know, I should really have a talk with Joey sometime and tell him how much of a catch he's really got with my girl. Sometimes I think it's a shame there's nobody else but women for us guys to marry, you know? It's like they don't know a damn thing half the time."

Jim just shrugged, and when Frank had gotten his truck all packed up and ready to go about ten minutes later, he tried to call home again. The line was still busy, but he told Jim to go ahead and plan on coming over for dinner, anyway. He'd have Jane help Angela out with dinner if he had to. The drive home was about half an hour with the evening traffic, giving Frank plenty of time to think about what type of lecture to give his wife about her habits of keeping the phone line busy. Not only did it cost money in terms of their bill, but it could be costing Frank jobs, too: yes, he and his brother had an office they often worked out of, but many people in the neighborhood just as frequently called the Rizzoli home line to get Frank's help. If the line was tied up, maybe they'd get impatient or just forget it.

When he finally pulled up to the house, it was to see his sons playing basketball in the driveway. They had the room to do it because Angela's car was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she'd finally gotten off the phone and gone to the store? Frank got out of his truck and caught the ball when it bounced off the board and flew towards him.

"Nice catch, Pop!" Tommy said, running over to take the ball.

"Hey, kiddo." He took a shot and made it. "Where's your Ma?"

"It's Wednesday," Frankie answered, catching the ball and dribbling it. "Remember? Her painting class? She'll just be on her way home now, probably."

Frank had totally forgotten. "Oh. Well then—so she hasn't been home?"

"No, not since… what, three?" he asked Tommy.

"Yeah, three."

"You boys been using the phone?"

"Nope," they answered in unison. Tommy went on, "We've been out here."

"I see." He smiled a little. "Your Ma's not home… is Jane? I'd think she'd be taking the chance to play with you fellas."

Frankie shrugged. "Said she had a phone call to make. Uh… what time is it?"

"It's a quarter past five."

The brothers exchanged surprised looks. "She was gonna make that call a while ago! Guess she had a lot of homework to do or something," Frankie said with a shrug.

Or, Jane had finally developed what her father would call the incurable female habit. Declining the boys' invitation to join in their game, he walked quietly inside the house. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Jane lying on her stomach on the cushioned area of the bay window, legs up and girlishly crossed at the ankle. The phone was cradled between her shoulder and her ear, one hand distractedly twirling a strand of hair while the other occasionally played with the cord of the telephone. At the moment, Frank was too astonished to be upset with her for keeping the line occupied for so long. She had always seemed impatient with phone calls, preferring to speak to a body in person or be left alone. Her back was to him, and he watched in utter fascination as she turned over onto her back, laughing.

_Must be talking to Joey…_

"Hey, I think you looked real good out there today."

_Definitely Joey!_

"Honest! You just have to work on your form a little bit. …no, just a bit. I swear. I… what? Well yeah, I can show you, if you want." She laughed again. "What a gas! You, a certified genius, and worried you're gonna flunk out of P.E.!"

_Certified genius? Flunking P.E.? Maybe not Joey…_

"Hey, it's only fair. You're scratching my back, so I'll scratch yours." Another laugh, this one somewhat exasperated. "It's another saying. It means, y'know, you're helping me, so I'm gonna help you. …oh, you don't? Okay, so… what about a, uh, a back _rub? _I've never gotten one before, but I hear they're supposed to be pretty nice. I bet you go to salons and stuff all the time with your mother, huh? …not a chance! Nah, I'll get in there, and they'll make me get my nails done, and my hair, and one of those disgusting mud baths. …no! No. There is no deal we could possibly make that'd end with me agreeing t—what? …no kidding? Well, I dunno…" She bent one leg at the knee and crossed the other, a finger twirled in the phone cord again. "If you think you've picked up enough technique, maybe."

At that point, she happened to glance by the door, where she saw her father standing with an amused and confused look on his face. Jane sat up so quickly that the phone nearly got knocked off the window, her coy smile replaced instantly by an apprehensive frown.

Her voice transformed noticeably, losing the sort of soft, feminine edge it had held a moment ago and reverting back to its lower, more businesslike usual tone: "Maura, hey, I-I've gotta go. …I'm sorry, I just didn't realize the time, and I've gotta, uh, I've gotta help with dinner, so I'll… yeah, okay, I'll see you then. Bye!"

She hung up and guiltily brought the phone back to the table it normally rested on as her father chuckled and walked further inside. "Maura, huh? Isn't that the girl Tommy's hung up on?"

"Uh…yeah, I guess so."

"You two chummy?"

"Well, you know she's the one who's been helping me with my biology," Jane said, following her father into the kitchen. "It's her favorite subject, and I stink at it!"

"Didn't sound like you two were talking about biology when I got home," Frank pointed out.

Jane felt a blush coming on, and bent down to double-knot one of her shoes to avoid looking at her father. "Um, well, it started out that we were. And then I guess we just sort of were talking about other things."

"For how long?" Frank asked gently.

Jane glanced at the clock, and her brow furrowed in disbelief. "Geez," she muttered, getting back to her feet. "Looks like it was almost two hours."

"I tried calling home three times."

"Sorry, Pop, it—it won't happen again, I promise."

Frank laughed and gave her a quick sideways hug. "I know it won't, kiddo. Hey, I consider myself lucky. Most guys I know with teenage daughters can't hardly ever get a chance to even get _near _the telephone, so I figure you were due at least one God-awfully long conversation by this point. Heck, you almost made it through high school without it ever happening, but I guess it was bound to at some point, huh?"

"Ma will be so proud," Jane said, rolling her eyes and earning another laugh from her father.

"Well, if you want, it'll be mum's the word with me."

"Really?"

"Sure, if you'll run to the store for me. I invited Jim Stevens over for dinner, and we're gonna try and get a poker game going. Now that the _phone _is finally free, I can call up some of the guys."

"Oh, but uh, Ma wanted me to remind you she was gonna have some of her friends over tonight. It's her turn to host book club."

Frank just shrugged and headed for the phone. "They can do that any place. I'm the only guy with a poker table, and besides, I don't feel like leaving the house again. Trust me, kiddo, your Ma's gonna be fine; just tell her to move her club somewhere else. Now once I see who all's comin', I'll need you to run to the store and pick up some things for, you know, sandwiches and the like."

"Right," Jane mumbled.

"Oh, and if you could, maybe drop by Nick's on your way back. He owes me a case of beer!"

"Oh, yeah! You won that last bet, right?"

"Told ya," Frank said, feigning an upper cut to Jane's chin. "Dugan was K.O.'d in the first four rounds! Does your old man know the fights, or does he know the fights?"

"Better than most, Pop, I'll give you that."

* * *

By eight o'clock, a very hurriedly-put-together dinner had finally been finished, and Angela had left for her book club, putting a note on the door that told her fellow members that the meeting had been moved to the home of her next-door neighbor (also a club member), who had graciously agreed to host at the last minute. Tommy was at Sumner's house, where Maura was meeting them to continue putting together plans for their presentation on Ancient Rome. Frankie kept trying to leave so he could be with Riley, but was constantly delayed by Jim, who was aggressively campaigning for him to join his school's football team so he could play for BCU one day. Once Frankie finally got away and Frank's poker buddies started showing up, Jane asked—only half-jokingly—if she could stay in for a round. Frank just laughed and asked her to get out the sandwiches Angela had put together.

Soon the kitchen was filled thick with cigar smoke, and Jane excused herself to go to the library. This was what she said, but what she actually meant was the park _by _the library, where Joey was already waiting for her.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, flicking his cigarette into the grass and stomping it out. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Well," she said, tucking her arms around him, "You're going out of town for a whole week. How could I not say goodbye?"

He grinned and walked over to the cover of a nearby tree, offering a little more privacy from anyone who might be walking by on the sidewalk. "Sure wish your parents weren't so uptight about you missing school. Going to my cousin's wedding without a date is gonna be a real drag."

It was true that the Rizzoli's had said no to Jane missing half a week of school, like Joey was. The wedding was over in Vermont, and his family was making a small vacation out of it considering the time it would take to travel and how rarely the extended family was together. Frank and Angela had, however, said that Jane was free to take the bus if she wanted to go up on Saturday for the wedding and come back on Sunday, an offer Joey's parents had told her they'd be happy to pay for if her parents approved. Jane simply hadn't told the Grants her folks had okay'd it. She didn't feel like making the trip, and knew that if Joey found out she'd had the chance, he'd get all huffy and it take it personally.

_Well, I guess he maybe __should__ take it personally. _If someone like Frost had asked her to do it, she probably would have. Or Maura. _I'd love to see her all dressed up for someone's wedding. She'd make a beautiful bridesmaid. _

"I'm sure you'll find some nice girl up there," Jane said, pushing Joey gently back against the tree. "And you'll forget all about little old me."

"No chance of that happening," he said with a grin. He sighed heavily. "Wish I had more time."

"Time?"

"Yeah, I can only be gone about ten minutes. I promised my old man I'd be back before then to help pack up the car. You know we're leaving in half an hour; gonna drive till two!"

"Geez!"

"Tell me about it!"

"I'd better make this fast, then," Jane murmured, pitching her voice as low and sensual as it would go. She leaned forward, hugging Joey a little closer to her and kissed him deeply, slowly. A low sound of approval came rumbling out of him, and though it made her stomach turn a bit, she encouraged it, lifting her hands to wrap around the back of his neck. _Ugh. Sweaty… _Regardless, she broke off the kiss and moved her lips to his neck, whispering, "I just have one little request to make."

He was breathless. "Yeah?"

"Just a small thing."

"What is it?"

She let her lips linger at the spot just below his ear, and he inhaled sharply, latching onto her hips. "Please," she whispered, "let me borrow that motorbike of yours?"

He laughed a little, having figured a request like this was going to come at some point or another. "Nah, Janie, come on. We've talked about this already."

"I know," she said mournfully, grazing her teeth against his earlobe and kissing beneath it again. She shifted closer, a move that he was quite obviously pleased with. "I drove it before, and you said I was a natural."

"Yeah, baby, but I was right there on it with you."

Jane growled. She hated his pet names, and she hated using them herself. He mistook the sound for one of teasing annoyance, and pulled her into another proper kiss. Jane breathed deeply, steeling herself for the last-ditch effort she was willing to go to. They had French kissed before, but not because Jane liked it—it was really only when she had been trying to get Maura's attention and really scandalize her. Now she was pressing it to her advantage in a different way, knowing Joey was more likely to be agreeable in this state. It didn't take very long for him to try turning them around, so he could be the one to be holding Jane up against the tree, but she refused to let him budge. She had to be the one in control here.

"C'mon, hot shot," she purred, shifting to kiss his jaw. "Pretty please? I promise I'll be careful with it. You'll never know it was even borrowed."

"Jane, I dunno…" She could hear his resolve weakening.

"Picture the two of us on that bike," she whispered, massaging his waist with no idea of whether that would be a particularly stimulating move for him or not. "Picture what we look like, what we could do. Now imagine being at your cousin's wedding …and picture me on that bike, riding up to see you, wearing your jacket and…" Her breath caught; another last-ditch effort: "And maybe nothing else."

That clearly shocked him, and he distanced himself slightly from her. "Jane!" he gasped, still holding her forearms and looking her in the eye. That was certainly not language becoming of a young lady, but Jane looked entirely unapologetic, and Joey felt as though he was on fire from head to foot. His mouth had fallen open, and in his state of shock, Jane reentered his personal space.

"You really shouldn't say things like that," he said.

"Not proper, I know," Jane agreed. She licked her lips. "But I can't help it. You make me want to do crazy things, Joey."

"Like ride motorbikes?"

"That motorbike will be the closest thing I'll have to you while you're gone. It's big, fast, and sexy… and hard. Just like you." _Oh, __brother__… _For as dumb as Jane felt for even trying these lines, Joey was totally eating it up. His breath hitched again when Jane plaintively rolled her hips against his, giving his neck another kiss. "Please, baby, let me take it."

"Okay," he finally relented. "Okay. _If _you promise to be real careful and not take it on any busy roads. And don't go over twenty miles an hour. And don't let any of the guys see ya, or even anybody, if you can avoid it. And I don't care if there ain't a law against it; you gotta wear a helmet. And no other passengers, all right?"

Jane crossed her fingers behind her back. "Sure thing, boy."

He sighed again. "Well, you're gonna find everything you need in my garage, then."

Joey assumed Jane would at least wait until tomorrow to give anything a shot, that is, if her nerve didn't get the better of her in the end. He thought it was just a tender move on her part to want to come home with him, to see him off when his family finally got going less than half an hour later. Even if it was too dark to see each other, she waved at his car until it was out of sight. Once she could no longer hear it, she grinned and ducked into the Grants' house, making a beeline for their telephone.

Dinner was getting on later than usual at the Isles home as Desmond was getting home late from a very long guest lecture he'd provided. When the phone rang and the maid picked it up in the hall, Constance was nearby in the library and listened carefully in case it was her husband calling to say he'd be even later.

"I'm afraid Miss Isles is busy at the moment. …no… She is—" The maid looked up when she saw her employer poke her head out of the library and mouth to ask who was on the phone. "Excuse me, who is calling, please?" She put the phone to her chest and whispered to Constance, "Jane Rizzoli." Constance furrowed her brow and walked forward, holding out her hand. "_Madame _Isles would like to speak with you."

"Oh no, no, I—argh," Jane sighed as the phone was passed over.

"Hello, this is Constance Isles."

"Uh…h-hello, Mrs. Isles, this is Jane." She cleared her throat. "Jane Rizzoli. I'm a friend of Maura's from school."

"You are Thomas' sister?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ah, yes. And are you the one Maura has been helping with her studies?"

"Um, in biology, yes ma'am."

"Maura's doing a little studying of her own at the moment, and she asked not to be disturbed. Is there a message you would like me to give her?"

"No," Jane said lightly.

"Why are you calling?" Her tone was genuinely curious, not accusatory or angry, but it unsettled Jane nonetheless.

"I—I, um…"

Now came a slight edge of condescension: "My dear, there's no need to get flustered. It's a simple question."

"I was just wondering if Maura was available to come out for a little tonight."

Constance checked the clock in the hallway. "Jane, it's already quite late for a school night, and we haven't even had the chance to eat dinner in our house yet. By the time we finish, I don't think Maura will have the time to go out gallivanting."

_No! Please! You don't know what I had to go through to get to this point tonight! _"Please, Mrs. Isles, do you think she could spare just a minute after dinner? She won't even have to leave your yard. I just have—I have something to give to her."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Well…_yes_, but…" How to explain this? Jane had never met Mrs. Isles, but could tell by her tone—and, well, where she lived—that she was probably too classy and too far past her own teenage years to remember the desperation a kid felt to cave as soon as possible when something they'd been waiting for dropped right in their laps. Asking to wait a day was like asking to wait a lifetime. Besides, what could she say? _You don't understand. I have this motorcycle. I was gonna impress your daughter with it. I wanted to give her a thrill. Nothing funny about it, right?_

Fortunately for Jane, Constance did actually get it. While she had no idea what it was about, she understood that clearly Jane had been waiting to give or show Maura _some_thing, and it would be cruel to make her wait even more if it could be taken care of quickly.

"If Maura says she's tired, I can't make any promises, but try coming by around 10:00 if that's not too late for you."

"Fine!" Jane said excitedly. "That'd be fine, I'll be there!" Constance smiled at the enthusiasm in her voice. "You won't forget to have her meet me, will you?"

"Cross my heart. I'll tell her."

Even if Constance _had _forgotten to mention it, there's a good chance Maura would have heard Jane coming.

In the afternoon on very busy roads, the noise of Joey's motorcycle didn't seem to be that loud. But late at night in a relatively exclusive part of town, Jane might as well have been setting off firecrackers. Her only consolation was that before turning onto Maura's street, another car had joined her, and he was at least balancing out the noise. It was a little after ten by the time she made it to the Isles house, and Maura was already sitting on the front porch step. This made Jane sort of anxious, because she had planned on just standing and leaning against the cycle while she waited for Maura to come outside. Instead, Maura sat there and watched as Jane came to a not-very-smooth stop. Jane scowled, annoyed at herself for still not being able to brake smoothly, and was just grateful that the darkness was hiding her blush.

Not that she needed to worry about Maura being suitably impressed.

As soon as she'd noticed it was Jane pulling up, Maura had slowly gotten to her feet, and it was all she could do to keep from letting her jaw drop. She had seen motorists before, even dressed like Jane was now, and thought nothing more than _noise pollution! _Some people were beatniks, some were fashionistas, some were motorcyclists. That was their prerogative. It just hadn't ever appealed to Maura before. She had never been the type to swoon over a man because he was on a motorcycle, and she had certainly never wanted to ride one before.

But this all was something else. Something painfully, beautifully, else.

Jane swallowed the apprehension that had come with her clumsy entrance, and swaggered towards the house. She was dressed in a very utilitarian pair of black boots, her old torn jeans, and a charcoal-gray shirt. Over the shirt was Joey's motorcycle jacket, made of black leather and zipped only at the very bottom, just over her navel. She had her own she could've worn, but she preferred the style of Joey's, and had taken no issue with borrowing it when she saw it hanging in the garage. Also his were the leather gloves she was now pulling off and sticking into her pocket. She'd spent a good ten minutes looking for his aviators as well (even if the sun wasn't out), but finally resigned herself to the notion that he must have decided to take those on the trip with him. She was accustomed to pulling her hair back when she rode the bike, and as she approached Maura, pulled her many curls out of the restrictive tie she'd used.

There was awe, veneration, and disbelief in Maura's eyes. Jane took note of all of it.

"Hey," she said, smirking and nodding at Maura.

It took the girl a few moments to compose herself into being able to reply. "H…hi."

"Don't suppose you have time for a ride?" Jane asked, gesturing grandly to the bike.

Maura walked over to it and Jane was close behind her. She nervously ran her hand over the seat. She'd never been this close to one before. Jane was smirking at her, and Maura had no idea how to feel, or even what she was actually feeling. Except arousal. There was most definitely and inarguably that.

"I can't now," she said a little mournfully.

"Not even a spin around the block?"

"Jane, it's late. I'm sure you've already caused quite a stir riding this thing around!"

"You bet!" Jane laughed, walking to the other side of the bike so she was facing Maura. She reached over and used her finger to tilt Maura's chin up, and winked at her. "Every girl I drove past just about fainted in ecstasy when they saw me on this thing. Kinda like you. Quite a stir!"

Pulling back, Maura felt herself growing hot with embarrassment. She knew Jane had only been joking, as was her way, but still. "I didn't faint, and I meant a stir about all the noise! How did you even talk your parents into letting you get one?"

"Aw, it's Joey's," Jane muttered. "His family's out of town, and he let me borrow it."

"I thought he and this bike were what is colloquially referred to as 'joined at the hip.' How ever did you convince him to let you borrow it?"

Jane scowled and pulled a cigarette from the box that had been in Joey's jacket pocket. "Aw, never mind how. I did. That's all that matters."

The cigarette was in her mouth and she was fumbling for a match when suddenly it wasn't there anymore. She looked incredulously at Maura, who was holding the cig and looking at it with a look of serious disgust. "These are very bad for your health," she said.

"What? Says who?"

"One of the world's most renowned epidemiologists, Richard Doll. Nearly a decade ago he published a study through Oxford University that concluded smoking is a major cause of lung cancer. Do you want to get lung cancer?"

Jane scoffed and waved her hand. "Did he do a study about why people look so glamorous when they smoke in the movies?"

"Really?" Maura drawled. Feigning a sultry expression, she brought the cigarette to her lips, pretending to take a draw and then blow out a puff of smoke. "Do I look glamorous?" Jane didn't answer, at least not out loud: _you look hotter than hell. _Maura pulled out the cigarette and made to toss it into the street.

"Wait," Jane said, reaching out and taking Maura's wrist. Their eyes met, and Maura looked at Jane a little unsurely. Jane's fingers shifted upwards, taking the cigarette from Maura. "I might wanna smoke that later."

Actually the reason she tucked it behind her ear was because it now had a ring of Maura's pink lipstick around it.

The moment had passed, and Jane straddled the bike. "C'mon," she said, grinning and shrugging her shoulder at Maura. "You're already pretending to do dangerous things. Try one more. Get on."

Maura glanced back at her house, then nervously stepped closer to the motorcycle. Her skirt was barely long enough to do this decently, but she managed to get one leg over the seat behind Jane, and she settled awkwardly onto it.

"Where do I put my hands?" she asked, seeing Jane's gripping the handlebars. It would be hard for her to reach those from back here.

Jane almost laughed. "You put 'em around me. Your arms, I mean."

Maura silently, hesitantly complied. Her grip was very loose and she didn't move particularly close to Jane, but Jane felt exhilarated by the contact. She leaned forward a little, pretending to rev up the bike, and Maura allowed herself to laugh.

"I've never met anyone like you before, Jane," she whispered into Jane's ear, chuckling lightly.

"And babe, you'll never meet another."

* * *

**A/N**: So this chapter was originally going to have a bit of a bummer ending, but I just had to stop it here. Couldn't bring myself to end on a sour note after the fluff!


	9. You Don't Know Me

Jane was on a high all the way home.

It was more than just having the bike to herself, which was great. Not having to put her arms around Joey like some kind of sucker was more than a welcome relief. She liked the feeling of power it gave her to be in control of a machine like the motorcycle, humming powerfully beneath her and moving at her own command. It was cooler than most cars she'd seen, and infinitely cooler than a bicycle. This was the only way to travel, and it instantly became her new goal to buy her own. If she had her own, she could drive Maura around on it whenever she wanted. It was the thought of this, not the wind in her face, that made her feel like she was flying.

Any single moment she'd just shared with Maura was loaded with far more excitement and pleasure than all the time she'd spent with Joey in the park, using her many talents to convince him to lend her his motorcycle. In spite of his tendency to sweat a lot, kissing him wasn't gross to her; it just wasn't particularly appealing. At best, it was a chore. Something to do, or a means to an end. Before him there had been Casey that one summer, but kissing him hadn't been all that much better. A little more exciting maybe, since he'd been her first kiss, but after that initial curiosity burned out, it didn't leave much in its wake.

A part of her couldn't help feeling jealous of people who enjoyed making out. She would much rather be on her own than someplace where Joey was going to be hanging around, waiting to neck or something.

All of this was going through her mind as she walked home from the Grants'. The light was on in her parents' room, as well as her brothers'. She stopped outside the house and checked her watch. 10:29. A minute later she glanced up, and her brothers' light went off. She knew she'd get hell for having been out so late on a school night, but rather than face the music right away, Jane decided to have a smoke first. She walked around to the backyard and lay on the grass, which slanted upwards towards the house. Two of the kitchen windows were open, she figured because Frank and his friends were still playing cards and chewing the fat. A loud laugh or a half-yell of frustration was heard now and then, but mostly they managed to keep their voices low, and Jane didn't strain to hear them.

She pulled out the cigarette she'd been keeping tucked over her ear, and rolled it between her thumb and index finger. A small smile came to her lips as she looked at the imprint Maura's lipstick had left around it. Sitting up, Jane used the light coming from the kitchen windows to get a better look at the specific ridges and shapes that had come from Maura's lips; she touched it lightly for some texture, and then rubbed her fingers together. Pink. A little waxy.

_Her mouth touched this. _

Jane brought the cigarette to her lips and just let it rest there a short while, closing her eyes and not thinking of anything at all. Certainly not thinking that five minutes of making out with Joey hadn't made her nerves jump like this, hadn't thrilled her like this—this, the simple act of wrapping her lips around something Maura Isles had likewise touched.

She pulled out a match and struck it against the sole of her boot, then lit the cigarette. Resting one arm behind her head, Jane lay back again, staring up at the starry night sky as she exhaled a billowing stream of smoke. Rather than take another draw, she let the cig stay between her fingers, resting her hand on her stomach.

More disparate contemplations: she hadn't said anything at confession about the impure thoughts she'd been having for weeks now. Sure she'd confessed to disobeying her mother, to maybe picking on her brother, to cheating on that one algebra quiz. Those were penances she could handle. How could she even begin to confess about these thoughts? Having them alone would be judged bad enough, but especially considering they were about another girl…

Still feeling unsettled, Jane decided—as she had the last few times she'd thought about it—to let it wait a while longer. As long as they remained thoughts, how could she help having them, really? She couldn't. Just don't act on it, and it's fine. Yes. Rationalizing is easy.

That is, it's easy if you're a rational person. Her father was rational, her mother wasn't. That was why Jane decided to come in the house through the kitchen instead of the front door. That way, she'd be guaranteed to run into Frank first, and while he'd no doubt still be upset she'd been out late, he was sure to be more reasonable than Angela about not giving her too much guff about it.

Jane walked up to the back porch and stood by the door to listen for a little while to the talk and laughter coming out through the windows. She liked hearing her dad with his friends. It made her feel good to know that he was well-liked and considered a good man by all of these people, all these fine men he'd served with. One was a garbage man, one was a hot-shot executive. Some lived worse than the Rizzoli's, and others lived in Maura's part of town. But they all bonded over the life they had shared for a few years, and in their eyes, Frank Rizzoli wasn't just some plumber. He was a hero. All of them were heroes, and all of them thought Jane was a swell kid, because Frank was proud of her. She'd take their praise over a teacher's adulation any day.

"Say, McNally. How's your boy doing over at Waverly?" Frank asked. "Still on their ball team?"

"Hey, you bet. Boy's a natural-born swinger. Either of yours any good, Rizzoli?"

A few of the men laughed before Frank could answer, "Lay off, fellas, huh? God bless 'em, my boys ain't got an eye for baseball. Frankie's coordination could use a tweak here and there. That mitt I got him a few years back just sits on his desk all the time! Boy can't catch anything smaller than a basketball, but at least he can play that! Tommy's sort of a lone wolf, you know? Not much of a team player. Maybe he'd make a good fighter, though." There was some murmured assent, and Jane felt her heart swell and break at the same time when he continued, "You oughtta see Janie throw a ball, though! If she was a boy, fellas, I'd be talkin' to the Sox any day now."

"No kiddin'?"

"You bet your life! We used to play catch all the time when she was a kid, and she kept going with it when she could. And when she connects a stick with that ball—you better watch out, boy."

"She ever try softball?"

Jane folded her arms and frowned when her father answered, "Angela won't go for it. And besides, I took Jane to one of those games once. She said the girls couldn't throw worth their salt. Just as well, too, I guess. Ange thinks Jane's got a hard enough time with boys without adding that into the mix—how'd that fix her odds, huh?" They all laughed, but it sounded as if one guy was trying to say something else when Frank added, "Remember that league they had in the war? Went on till about what, four or five years ago? If that was still around, you know, maybe I could persuade Angela to let Jane play ball. It could've sure helped out financially, you know. She wants to go to school, and I don't know where the hell we're gonna get the money to pay for it."

A few of the men expressed their sympathies, but one off-handedly mentioned he didn't think Frank should worry. "What's she gonna learn in school anyway, huh? How to swaddle a kid and how to ruin a man's checkbook!"

"You don't talk like that about my daughter, Thompson," Frank said seriously. "Jane's gonna be somebody." For the first time since Jane had shown up, there was a noticeable if short silence. Tears stung at her eyes and she held her breath, not wanting to miss a word. "My Jane is going to amount to something. She's not gonna be like me and Angela. She wants an education? I'll find a way to give it to her. She's gonna have it. Maybe she can't have everything my boys are gonna have, but you fellas can bet I'm gonna do my damndest to bring her close as I can. Yes sir, you guys can take that all the way to the bank."

For a few moments afterwards, there was nothing but the sound of chips being pushed forward and a few cards being restlessly shuffled. Jane had turned so she was facing the outer wall of the house, hugging herself as she breathed sharply through her nose, trying not to cry. Her stomach ached more than it ever had with the effort of suppressing those sobs. She couldn't go in there until she'd gotten a hold on herself, a hold on her emotions.

She was still fighting off sobs when a man said, "I been meanin' to tell you boys. Guess who I saw in the library last weekend?"

"Walt Disney," guessed Jim.

A few of the men laughed, and some more celebrity names were tossed out. When it was made clear they really were meant to guess, Frank asked, "Okay, Sullivan, man or a woman?"

Short silence. "Yes."

Another silence, and then Frank laughed, "Del Rossi?"

Everybody laughed again, and as Jane wiped at her eyes, she tried to remember why that name was familiar and what the joke had meant. Quickly it came back to her, from another conversation she'd overheard a few years ago. Del Rossi… he was that queer guy her father had known in the army.

"Say, you and him were close, weren't you, Sullivan?"

"Hey, watch it!" Sullivan said.

"No, no," Frank said gently. "I mean, you were pals before he, uh… before you found out how he liked to spend his spare time, right?"

"Yeah, which is how come I think he felt he could tell me."

"Tell you what, Sully?" asked Jim.

"Well I saw him, guys, and he was on the arm of this beautiful girl. I mean, she was a real knock-out. A babe. She whispers something in his ear, and then he looks at me, and he smiles kinda big. He gives her a kiss and says something in her ear, and she walks off and he comes over. Guy was wearing a wedding band."

"_No_. Married to that girl?"

"Fellas, I seen it with my own eyes."

"What a waste of a bombshell on a guy like that!"

"No, no, boys, that's just it. He was cured!"

"_Cured!_" sneered McNally. "A guy can't be cured of the plague, can he?"

"Maybe through a miracle," Jim suggested.

"Didn't take a miracle," Sullivan said earnestly. "Del Rossi said he'd gotten a treatment, an honest to God treatment for it! Electric shock therapy, he called it."

Jane was breathless again, listening hard by the door. Whatever the hell electric shock therapy was, it didn't sound good.

"What's that?" asked one of the guys. "They send a shock to his balls till he figured out who was _supposed _to grab 'em?"

That got quite a reaction out of everybody, and it took a moment for Sullivan to be able to make himself heard, saying, "They put a bunch of shocks into your brain, or somethin' like that. I guess it's like trying to rewire a transformer or the like. Some stuff got screwed around in his head somehow, and blam. The electricity put it right."

"Say, that's what they did to Jimmy Piersall, remember?" Frank asked.

"Piersall was queer?"

"Nah, but he was some kind of mental case till he got electric shock therapy. Said it made him sane." Frank shrugged. "Ain't queers just another kind of mental patient?"

"Yeah, there was one point I thought Del Rossi coulda used a straitjacket," snorted Jim.

Frank laughed. "Keep his hands to himself, huh? Well… hey, the therapy worked for Piersall pretty good. Replaced Dom DiMaggio and made All-Stars in '54, remember? I know Del Rossi's no baseball player, but hey, maybe every sickness has its cure, huh?"

McNally sounded skeptical. "I dunno, boys. A perv's always gonna be a perv. But hey, maybe Del Rossi's wife appreciates having a husband who's _real gentle _with her." Some appreciative laughing, and then, "Guess there's someone out there for everybody, huh?"

Jim started to croon softly, "_Woman needs man, and man must have his maid—on that, you can rely…"_

Suddenly Jane realized that not only was she shivering, she was weeping. She'd left Joey's jacket with the bike in his garage, and she rubbed her bare arms as she headed around to the front of the house. There was no way she could walk into that poker game now. On some level she knew her fear was irrational—but if she strutted in there right now, they'd all know. These men she so revered and who so adored her would sneer like they had at Del Rossi. They'd tell her she was sick. She was a disgrace. She was mentally unwell and deserving of their disgust and maybe worse. Maybe tell Frank she ought to be carted off to an asylum where they'd hook her brain up to a generator and electroshock all thoughts of Maura Isles out of her head. Put her in a straitjacket and keep her from touching herself in the middle of the night, just in case some of those thoughts lingered and escaped.

The fear of all that was more than enough penance, she decided.

Tears were an asset she could possibly use to allay her mother's berating. She prepared to open the front door, then realized she was still clutching her cigarette. She pulled out a stick of gum from her pocket and frantically started chewing it as she tossed the cigarette down to the walkway. If Angela knew she'd been smoking, that'd make her punishment all the greater.

Jane glanced back at the cigarette. Maura's lipstick was still faintly visible. Panicking, she hurried over to it and smushed it down into the pavement with her heel, eradicating all traces of pink. Her lips pressed tightly together, holding back more sobs as she ground the cigarette down much harder than was necessary. She was disgusted with herself.

_You're pathetic! Holding onto that thing just because Maura—just because a girl—had it. What're you, a twelve-year-old boy? Pull it together and don't be a screw-up!_

Just as she'd expected, her mother descended on her almost the very second she stepped inside the house. The poker game was still audible from here as Angela came hurrying down the stairs. "_Jane Clementine Rizzoli, _do you have any idea what time it is?! Where have you been?! I almost called the police, I've been worried sick about y…"

She'd reached the foot of the stairs and saw that her daughter was shuddering with tears. Her daughter, who'd sooner give someone a black eye than so much as let a single tear drop in front of another person, was openly crying. Instantly Angela shifted into comforting mother mode, putting her arm around Jane (who for once did not resist), and leading to sit her on the stairs.

"Honey, what's the matter?" she asked, rubbing Jane's arm consolingly. "What happened, where've you been?"

"S'—Joey," Jane choked out. "I w—went to say goodbye before his family left on that trip."

"Jane, you can't be this upset over that! Can you? He won't even be gone a week!"

_Yeah, no way she'll buy that one. _Thinking on her feet and figuring she'd just deal with the repercussions later, Jane sniffed, "H-he broke up with me, Ma!"

"_What?_"

"He dumped m-me! Said we're through, we're… we're done!"

"Why on earth—why?!"

_Can't say for another girl. It'll just give her another excuse to get on my case. 'If you were more feminine like you should be, he would never have left you!' I have to be the victim here, entirely. Maybe because I said I wouldn't go all the way… but then maybe she'd talk to his parents, and that'd get him in trouble and blow all this up in my face… _"I don't wanna talk about it, Ma, please. I can't."

Angela gripped her tighter, and Jane threw an arm around her mother's waist, holding her close. "Don't worry, baby, we'll get you through this. You'll be all right." As she rocked her there on the stairs, Jane couldn't help praying fervently that she _would _be all right.

* * *

The next day at school, Jane was caught a little off guard when Maura appeared by her locker. "What's goin' on with you?" she asked brusquely, pulling some needed books out and slamming her locker door shut.

Not noticing or choosing to ignore Jane's sour mood, Maura followed her down the hall and said brightly, "I just thought you might want to know that I found your take-off last night very impressive."

"My what?" Jane scowled.

"Um, well, you probably can't deny that you left much to be desired when you brought that motorcycle to a stop outside my house. I wanted to tell you that I was very…" _Aroused by_. "Impressed by how smoothly you were able to turn it around and leave!"

"Gee, thanks," Jane muttered, rolling her eyes.

"You looked like a real…" She had searched for the proper slang term last night, but the terminology was escaping her under Jane's very cold stare. "Uh… like a real birdie biker!" Maura smiled hopefully, but Jane just glared back, apparently unfamiliar with what Maura reasoned must have been an out-of-date entry in her father's encyclopedia. "It means a female motorcyclist," she said.

"Great, poindexter, thanks. Nothing I like more than being reminded of how much of a chick I am."

"Jane, what's wrong?" Maura asked, frowning.

"Nothing!" Jane hissed. "Geez, would you quit following me around like I'm some kind of pity project? I came by your house last night, no big deal!"

"I didn't say it was, and I'm not following you!"

"Good," Jane said viciously. They had stopped outside of Jane's English classroom, and Jane bumped past Maura, leaving her in the hallway.

She wasn't alone long. Maura turned when a female voice addressed her: "Don't let Jane Rizzoli get to you." The speaker was a blonde with rather phenomenal breasts, and she was flanked by two small brunettes, one of whom looked quite sour and the other eager to please. "You're Maura Isles, aren't you?" the blonde went on.

"Y-yes. Yes."

"Emily Richards," the girl said, shaking her hand. She nodded inside the English classroom with a sympathetic look on her face. "This is Debbie Nickels and Kate Thompson. Real cool crowd. Look, anyway, Jane and I used to be best friends."

"Oh, you're Emily. _The_ Emily."

"You've heard of me?"

"Jane just mentioned…" _Eyes up, Maura! _"She mentioned you."

Emily shook her head, laughing a little. "Jane's a real space cadet, you know?"

"She has astronautically-related ambitions?"

The girls all laughed at that, clearly thinking Maura had meant it as a joke. "Yeah, she's a cuckoo," Emily chuckled. "Anyway, don't take it personally if she's been rude to you, okay, kid? She's kind of that way to everybody. You look kind of attached. I wouldn't waste my time, if I were you."

"Waste my time?"

"Jane's going nowhere fast," Kate snorted. "There's a reason she hasn't hardly got any friends here, and there's a reason Joey Grant hangs around her."

"Classic charity case," Emily sighed in agreement. "Figures that if he gives her enough attention, she'll be so desperate to cling on to him that she'll do whatever he wants. And he has high hopes, which is a little odd, considering…" She chuckled again, unconsciously thrusting her chest out a bit. "She hasn't got anything to offer."

"She's got plenty," Maura shot back, earning three surprised looks. "Just because Jane's family isn't rich like yours and she doesn't run around like Pollyanna all the time doesn't mean she's bad news. She's smart and she's got better friends than you. And if you didn't have such a fixation on cleavage, you might have noticed that Jane possesses several other physical traits that would be appealing to certain types. Pick anything you want—her dimples, her hair, her legs, whichever! And even if none of that was attractive, she's still loyal. She's smart. She's adventurous."

"Well," Emily said slowly. "It's certainly apparent where _your_ loyalties lie."

Maura clutched her books to her chest as the bell rang above them. "Good," she said, holding her head up high. "It wasn't my intention to be subtle." And she hurried off to geometry, where she was about to receive the first _tardy _mark of her life.

Emily and Kate walked into the English room where Jane was sitting in the back, doodling. Kate took the desk next to her and whispered to get Jane's attention. "Hey, Rizzoli."

"What."

"I know someone who's got a little crush on you."

Jane just snorted and kept her eyes on her paper. "Yeah, you and everyone else. He's out of town."

"I don't mean Joey," Kate said in an even lower voice. "Cute little blonde thing. Kind of an egghead. Wouldn't stop yammering about what a perfect _specimen _you are!"

She and Emily immediately started laughing, and Jane fought down a blush, clearing her throat and trying to ignore them. They'd only meant it as a joke, seeing Maura's semi-rant as nothing more than an impassioned speech by a clearly-odd kid about a student who was just as weird as she was. "Crush" was used only in jest, wanting to get under Jane's skin, as Jane's lack of femininity had always been a target for humor among some of her classmates. As much as Joey was genuinely drawn to it, most others found it funny or upsetting. Kate thought that the idea of Jane being so masculine that another girl would be attracted to her was absolutely hilarious, and her theory was proved right when Jane slunk down in her seat, clearly embarrassed.

Jane couldn't concentrate on a thing that was said all during class. She kept thinking about Maura and how harsh she had been to her that morning. And then the girl had gone and stood up for her to these wretched girls, who'd probably been tearing her apart.

_How do I say I'm sorry when I can't tell you what I want to apologize for? It's not your fault that I just want to hold you every time I see you… it's __my__ thing, it's __my__ problem, not yours. It's not right for me to get angry at you for it. But if I get angry and I stay angry, maybe then you won't want to spend time with me. Maybe you'll leave me alone and I'll get used to not seeing you around, and then I can be normal again. 'Again', ha, maybe not. That's gonna be the plan now, okay, Maura? I can't be nice to you. If I'm nice to you, you'll be nice back, and I'll… it'll just not be good. _

Nothing was good. Nothing was going right. The lunch period swung around, and as Tommy and Frankie waited for Jane to go home, she told them to get started and she'd follow up. She waited around outside the front of the school, planning to catch Maura on her way home. She couldn't bring herself _not _to apologize; being mean to Maura was like kicking a puppy. Students milled around her, finding siblings and friends to spend the brief lunch hour with, but there was no sign of Maura. Debbie, Emily and Kate threw sneering looks at Jane as they passed, and she returned the gesture. There went Garrett and Sumner Fairfield, unusually deep in conversation. But no Maura. The amount of students exiting the building dwindled until a minute passed with nobody else leaving. Jane waited around another few minutes before she thought she might as well go home—maybe Maura had run out with the first crowd, and Jane had missed her.

But then something occurred to her.

She ducked back into the school. A passing teacher asked why she was still on campus, and she said she needed something from her locker. Rounding the corner, she instead hurried down the hall to Mr. Sluckey's classroom and peeked inside. There was Maura, sitting alone at a desk in the middle of the room, eating a sandwich and reading a textbook. Once certain that nobody else was inside, Jane nudged the door open.

Maura glanced up immediately, and Jane's heart ached to see those hazel eyes tinged with red. "Oh," Maura breathed, looking around the room. "I thought I everyone had gone."

"What're you doing here?" Jane asked softly, walking inside.

"Mr. Sluckey said I could eat in here if I liked," Maura said, avoiding Jane's eye. "He has his lunch in the staff room."

"Why don't you go home?" Jane pressed her. She went to sit at the desk in front of Maura's, setting herself down backwards on the seat so she could prop her arms on Maura's desk.

Maura deliberated for a moment, folding the bag she'd brought her sandwich in. "There isn't much point. I used to go, I used to do it. Edward would pick me up, Linda would have something mouth-watering ready to eat, and then I would come back here for school."

"What's the problem? Sounds pretty great to me!"

"People were going out of their way for me, for just a short lunch hour," Maura said, staring at her desk. "I can't drive yet, but I'm capable of making food for myself. I prefer it that way. Your mother is home when you go?"

"Yeah," Jane snorted. "Sometimes my Pop is, too, if it's one of those days."

"I don't know what those kind of days are," Maura said. "My parents are never there." An unspoken _for me _resounded through her head, but she kept it in with a trembling lower lip."

"Hey," Jane murmured, reaching out and gently touching Maura's cheek. Maura jerked away, sure that further contact would make her burst into tears. "Hey, doe eyes, come on. Don't do that."

"I don't know what I did to make you look at me like that this morning," Maura choked out. "Or talk to me that way. I should've been so angry with you, but—"

"Kate told me you kinda stuck up for me," Jane said. "Thank you."

"I know what it's like," Maura said. "I know how it feels to be the odd one out, Jane. To be the one that people find strange, they find unusual." She took a deep breath, and a few tears leaked out of her eyes as she averted her gaze upwards, past Jane, to the ceiling. "I've been talked about behind my back. I've been left out of every possible social situation simply because my interests never seemed to gel with anyone else's. I know how it feels to be the one person there never seems to be room for in the c-car."

"Sweetie, please," Jane whispered.

Maura's eyes met hers at the pet name, and Jane barely registered she'd used it at all. She reached across the desk again, this time cupping Maura's cheek and using her thumb to wipe away some tears. Maura took a shuddering breath and more tears came out, but Jane stayed steady.

"I'm so sorry," she said in that same soft voice. "Maura, I'm _so _sorry. I don't want to be another one of those people, one of those jerks who makes you feel bad about yourself."

"I never used to mind, after a point," Maura said. "I got accustomed to it, and I stopped taking it personally. My peers were reacting to something that was different from them. I could've changed if I'd wanted to, I could've made myself more acceptable, but I didn't want to. I just got so _mad _when I heard those girls talking about you like you were… well, like you were as strange as me."

"Hey, I make you look like you're in the in-crowd," Jane said, finally getting Maura to smile. "And I promise I… I won't ever be like that again, Maura. I'm not gonna make you feel like you don't have a place here, okay? Because you do. And you know what else?"

"What?" Maura hiccupped.

Jane smiled a little. "Have Sumner or Tommy blabbed enough about the county fair to you yet?"

"I've been hearing about it all over school," Maura answered, pulling back and wiping at her eyes.

"You gonna go?"

"Are you?"

Jane's smile widened at the tone behind the question, that sense of _I'm only going if you're going_. "Not only am I gonna go," she said, "I'm gonna win enough prizes there to cash in for my own motorcycle, see? If I bought a car, hey, we could get us a couple of hitchhikers or lazy siblings. But on a bike, there'd be room for nobody else on my seat besides you. All 116.8 pounds."

Maura was laughing, at first because of the clear absurdity that Jane could earn enough stuffed bears to buy a motorcycle. Even if that joke was still funny, the sentiment was real; she kept laughing because it was the natural extension of the smile on her face, one that couldn't possibly leave while Jane's hand was still resting on her cheek.


	10. There Is Something On Your Mind

**A/N**: Because I don't care what Maura would say- writing fanfic is more fun than studying!

* * *

"…what're these?"

"What d'you mean, what are they? You know a cannoli when you see one, don't ya?"

"Yeah, I do. _So what the heck is this?_"

"Just eat it, Giovanni!"

"Your Ma didn't make these, did she?"

Jane was starting to turn red. She thrust the plate in his hands and said, "She taught me, and I made them. I don't care if they taste like car oil. You still owe me! I let you cheat off my history test—and I bet you've never gotten a mark so good in all your life!"

Giovanni rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking a bite out of one of the cannoli's. His features pinched as the dessert went down, and when it looked as though he might start to cry, Jane felt a little bad for having bullied him into eating it. He was a good-natured guy most of the time; it wasn't his fault she didn't know how to bake. She expected him to drop the plate once he finally swallowed. Instead, he looked back down, shrugged again, and continued eating. She laughed to herself as he started walking towards one of the nicer cars in the garage, gesturing for her to follow.

"This just came in today," he said, reading the card next to it.

Jane's mouth dropped. "Is that—?!"

"A Maserati 3500 GT? Yes, ma'am."

"I haven't ever seen one of the ones they mass-produced. Only pictures from the races," Jane said, reverently running her hand along the top of the car. It was off-white in color, and as far as Jane was concerned, it might have just rolled out of heaven …were it not for three long scrapes in the paint that ran down the side. "You poor baby," Jane cried, hugging the car as best she could. "Who did this to you?!"

"Apparently the owner's kid brother," Giovanni said, reading the report that was hung next to the car. "Hey, we go to school with this guy, don't we? Garrett Fairfield?"

At the name, Jane shoved herself away from the car. "_He _owns this thing?"

"I'm thinkin' his daddy paid for it, and he's probably the one paying for the repair."

"His brother took it out for a joy-ride, huh?"

Apparently, Sumner hadn't been alone. When Jane got home, it was to hear Frank in one of his rare rages, and rarer still, he was taking out his anger on Tommy. It seemed that the previous night, Sumner and Tommy had taken off with Garrett's car while the latter had been having dinner at a friend's house. Sumner had just barely gotten his license but Tommy didn't know the first thing about driving—which was a poor explanation for why Sumner had agreed to let him try his hand at the wheel. The damage could have been much worse, but that defense didn't hold up very well against Frank.

Jane tip-toed past the living room where this fighting match was going on, caring to listen from a distance. Mr. Fairfield had said they were lucky he hadn't called the police to inform them the car had been driven by a kid without his license. He expected the Rizzoli's to pay for the repairs, a notion that Tommy had called ridiculous when Mr. Fairfield earned enough money in less than half an hour to pay what Gilberti was charging. That wasn't the point, Frank yelled, the point was responsibility and respect for other people's property. From what Jane understood, her father was paying for the damage upfront, and Tommy was to work off the money to pay him back.

"…and I think it goes without saying that you are grounded, Thomas, you hear me? Starting tonight. You're not in school, you're here."

"But Pop," Tommy said, and Jane and Frankie exchanged a look in the kitchen, knowing this wasn't going to end well. "The fair's this weekend and—"

"_What? _There's a fair this weekend? Well, hold everything!" In his tone, Jane recognized her own sarcastic drawl. "You put me out more than fifty bucks and you coulda _killed _somebody driving without a license—but hey! There's a fair! And let me guess, you made a pie for it, right?"

"I was g—I was gonna take Maura, she's excited about it."

"I don't give a damn about what this girl wants! You shoulda thought of that before you made a jackass out of yourself, you little _punk! _Your Ma lets you get away with too much, you know that? _I'm _the head of this family, and you will respect what _I _say, understand?" Beat. "Thomas Anthony Rizzoli! I asked if you understood me!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then get up to your goddam room!"

Jane and Frankie listened with bated breath as they heard Tommy race upstairs, and the sound of his door closing was followed by the slam of the front door. It was safe to presume Frank had stepped out. Jane slumped over the kitchen table, clasping her hands together and muttering, "Jesus Christ. Help."

Frankie let out a loud exhale. "That was pretty rough."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "You heard. Tommy told me about it, though. Said they'd been on a back road, where there wouldn't have been any chance of hitting anybody, or running into anything. Well, anything but some guy's fence, I guess."

"Frankie, it was a _Maserati_."

Frankie's eyebrows went up and he whistled. "No wonder Mr. Fairfield was so pissed!"

"Yeah, Pop, too. I haven't heard him lose it like that in a while."

"You shoulda heard him earlier," Frankie said, frowning even more deeply.

"Why, what happened?"

"Well, you know, he was already in a foul mood on account of what Tommy did to Fairfield's car, but then Ma—"

"Oh, geez."

"Ma starts laying into him about his poker debts. Saying how if he wouldn't gamble so much, we could have more money around the house to cover stuff like this. So you know Pop, he goes off on one of his spiels about how he needs those games and those guys, and how Ma doesn't know the kinda stuff they all went through together…"

Jane sighed and leaned back in her seat. She often found herself siding with her father when arguments of this type came up: it was true, none of them had _any _idea the kinds of things their soldiers had seen and experienced in the war. Who were they to butt in and say how those men, those heroes, could or should spend their hard-earned time and money? But on the other hand, Jane couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Tommy. He'd been looking forward to this fair all month, often stopping by the grounds to watch as various tents and the Ferris wheel went up. For a boy so hell-bent on growing up fast, his excitement about the fair was childlike and kind of cute.

Maura had certainly been charmed by it, Jane noticed.

"Where's Ma?" she asked.

Frankie nodded towards the living room. "She's still here."

Jane got up and walked out of the kitchen, stopping to look into the living room. Angela was sitting on the couch, a book open in her lap, but she wasn't looking at it. Once Jane had been standing there a while, Angela eventually turned to look at her, and smiled weakly. Jane tried to smile back, and she felt at least a little solidarity when Frankie came over to join her.

"Hi, Janie," Angela said in a cracked voice. "How was your day?"

"Okay," Jane sighed. Suddenly she remembered telling her mother that she and Joey had split up last night. "Uh… considering. You know."

Angela nodded to herself. "You wallow as much as you need, honey."

"Yeah, I thought I might go wallow a bit at Murray's tonight. Maybe go for an egg cream."

"All right. You should. You go do that, Janie."

Frankie raised an eyebrow at Jane, and she led the way up the stairs. "I kinda told Ma that Joey dumped me last night," Jane said. "That's not exactly true, but I wouldn't be sorry if it was." She knocked on the door of Tommy and Frankie's room, then walked right in. Tommy was lying on his back on his bed, and didn't look away from the ceiling when his siblings walked in. "Hey, tough break about the fair, kid," Jane said.

"Thanks for rubbing it in," he huffed.

"No really, Tommy, I'm sorry. I know how bad you wanted to go," Jane said sincerely.

"Badly."

"What?"

"Bad_ly_." He sighed heavily and turned on his side, away from Jane. "That's what Maura would say if she was here."

"Son of a gun, so it is. Geez, Tommy, she turned you into a grammar freak, too? One of them's bad enough, I don't need two on my tail!" When Tommy did not respond to this, Jane put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "Look, T, was she really gonna go with you?"

"Well I didn't get a chance to ask her _officially_," Tommy said. "But we'd talked about it and it was pretty much a done deal!"

"Rotten luck, Tommy," Jane said. "Well, we'll keep an eye on her at the fair for ya, don't worry."

Tommy sat up at that, looking very offended. "You guys are gonna go?!"

"Well yeah," Jane snorted. "Of course we are. _We _aren't grounded."

"T, look at it this way," Frankie said. "You've done something me and Jane have never done, and probably aren't ever gonna have a chance to do. You were behind the wheel _of a Maserati_. Sure you screwed it up, but still. That's more than me and Jane'll ever be able to say."

A few minutes later, Jane left Frankie to do more of the comforting. She had a date to keep. Well, sort of. For all the time she spent getting ready, it may as well have been a date. Chewing a stick of gum for some minty breath, she hummed to herself as she started combing through her hair, eventually pulling it back. She borrowed a little of the gel Frankie frequently used, running it uneasily through her tangles in hopes of quelling the frizz at least a bit. Jane had noticed that on days when Maura wore eyeliner, her eyes really did seem to pop, and she wondered if it would have the same effect on her. Doubtful but curious, she borrowed some of her mothers and spent a good deal of time carefully applying it.

_Huh. Not bad. _She glanced at the clock. _Crap, I'm late!_

As Jane booked it for Joey's garage, Maura checked her watch. She was standing on the corner of a relatively-seedy looking intersection, the names of which she had checked three times against the note she had clutched in her hand: _meet me on the corner of Thompson and Revere at 8:00. –J_

Not that it had needed the initial. Jane had been walking down the hall with a couple of girls Maura didn't know, while Maura was passing by with Sumner. As they crossed paths, Maura had waved, and Jane had tossed her the folded scrap of paper. Maura had nearly dropped all her books in the effort to catch it (one wound up falling to the floor, and Sumner dutifully picked it up), and she'd been smiling ever since. Nobody had ever passed her a note before.

It was five after eight when she saw a familiar figure roaring down the road on a motorcycle. Quickly she stuffed the note into her purse, not wanting Jane to tease her (even in good spirits) about having held onto it. This time, Jane's stop was much smoother, and she dismounted with a touch of pride.

"How's that?" she asked, smirking and folding her arms.

"You're a master, Miss Rizzoli."

Jane chuckled and nodded at her. "Well thank you, Miss Isles. You look mighty lovely this evening, I might add." _Not that that's a novelty._

Maura's dress was light pink gingham, the same shade of the solid cardigan covering it. As usual, she represented the very utmost level of femininity, and could not be a more direct contrast to her friend: the boots, borrowed leather gloves and jacket were back. Her shirt was black also, and was tucked into a surprisingly clean pair of jeans. They were midnight blue and though rolled at the hem, these ones did actually reach past the top of her boots. Jane idly rubbed her neck, feeling a little self-conscious as Maura stared at her.

"I guess maybe I look kind of funny in this get-up, don't I?" she asked.

"No," Maura said honestly. "Actually, I was admiring your eyeliner. I don't think I ever noticed how beautiful your eyes are."

"C'mon, really?"

Maura finally managed a smile. "You're gorgeous, my friend."

Jane hadn't ever heard something like that in her life.

Well okay, that wasn't entirely sure. Joey said she was beautiful, but Jane was pretty sure that was only because she agreed to make out with him. Giovanni had said she was a looker, but he said that about every girl he saw. A man had whistled at her once on her way to see Frost, and she'd thrown a rock in his direction.

Nobody had ever called her gorgeous in that kind of reverent tone, like they were in awe of it but also desperately wanted Jane to _know _it and to feel it. That she was beautiful. Maura looked a little shy about having said it, and they stood in awkward silence for a moment, Jane's hands stuffed into her back pockets as she tried to think of a reply.

"Even…like this?" she asked, gesturing to her extremely casual apparel.

"_Especially _like that."

"Will you tell my mother that?" Jane asked, laughing a little as she stepped closer to Maura. "She thinks I'm some kind of… I dunno what, but 'gorgeous' sure never comes up."

"It should." _Oh gosh, Maura, just stop talking! You can't lie; that doesn't mean you have to go around spouting every thought that occurs to you. You're making her uncomfortable! Just change the subject._ "Incidentally, Jane, I was wondering what inspired you to want to meet here."

"I wanna show you something," Jane said, leading the way up the street. She headed towards what Maura had to admit was the nicest-looking building on the otherwise shabby block, and warily walked in when Jane held the door open for her.

"You brought me to a pool hall?" Maura asked, shocked.

"Hey, don't say it like that! Besides, it's _billiards_. That's the fancy name for it, isn't it?"

Yes, but the joint wasn't particularly fancy itself. None of the illustrations on the walls were framed, the carpet looked stained, and none of the tables were being used. The only patrons of the place were all sitting at the bar, attentively leaning towards a radio and yelling at it. Frank's friend McNally was the bartender, and he waved at Jane before quickly returning his attention the fight being broadcast. Maura looked around uncertainly as Jane walked over to the farthest pool table.

"Are we supposed to be here?" she asked.

"Sure. My Pop's friend helps run this place," Jane said, casually picking up a pool cue and chalking the tip. "I come by all the time to work on my game."

"Your mother doesn't take issue with it?"

"What my mother doesn't know doesn't hurt her," Jane muttered. "Now, for the record, I wanna ask you something. Ever played billiards before?"

"No."

"Damn."

"_Jane!_"

"Sorry, uh, _shucks. _I'll have to teach ya."

"Why?"

"I sort of made a bet with Tommy."

"About me?"

"Yeah. He said he bet you'd never done something as un-ladylike as step into a pool hall, and he said he'd pay me three bucks if he ever saw you sink a ball."

"I feel like I should be offended you two have been betting on me…"

"You should take it as a compliment. Now I don't know about you, but I can't afford to lose three bucks, so you're gonna have to learn this fast."

"You're going to teach me?"

"Yeah. C'mere, grab a cue stick." Jane chuckled a little at Maura's expression, which was lightly confused as she took hold of the least-dirty cue she could find and joined Jane at the table. "So you wanna hold it like this," Jane instructed, sliding the cue between two of her fingers. "Or… um, I'm left-handed, so that actually might be a little awkward for you—so switch hands, 'cause you're gonna want to shoot with your dominant."

Maura adjusted accordingly, then frowned and said, "Your left is your dominant hand? I've never seen you write with it."

Jane laughed a little nervously, standing straight. "I play softball and swing a golf club left-handed, 'cause I can get away with it there. When I was a kid, my parents sent me to a grammar school run by nuns, and boy, those Sisters used to whack me something awful! They thought they were gonna beat an education into me, but I fought 'em in spirit, anyway. Every time they'd come to my desk and see me writing with my left hand, they'd get a ruler and slam it down on the back of my hand."

"That's barbaric!" Maura gasped.

"No, that's the American way," Jane laughed.

"This is the 20th century. Superstitions about the etymology of the word 'left' versus 'right' should have been tossed away long ago!"

Jane smirked and leaned against the edge of the pool table. "So you don't think I'm the spawn of the devil for having a dominant left hand?"

"Certainly not!" Maura balked. "As I say, there is nothing but superstition to back the bias against left-handed people. There is no scientific evidence showing them to be any more likely to engage in delinquent activity or be prone to be any more dangerous than their right-handed counterparts."

"Aw, Maura," Jane muttered, taking a step closer. "Can't you just call me a _little _bit dangerous?"

Maura didn't know exactly how she ought to respond to that. All she knew was that her body was responding physically without her will: her legs felt shakier, and she stopped breathing for a moment when she looked up at Jane and saw those smoky, definitely dangerous-looking eyes boring back into her.

"Turn around," Jane whispered, and largely for lack of a better response, Maura obeyed. They were both facing the pool table now, and Jane stepped forward slightly, pressing herself up behind the younger girl.

Maura glanced quickly at the bar, but nobody was looking in their direction; the men were all too heavily invested in listening to the game, as Jane had known they would be. Jane was waiting for Maura to ask her to please give her some space, to back away. She waited for the look of confused disgust, or maybe just the confusion at least. The wait was in vain. Whatever Maura thought of their positioning, she wasn't taking an issue with it, and Jane smiled involuntarily to herself. _Unless she thinks it'd be rude to say anything…_

"Maura? Are you uncomfortable?"

The response was breathless: "WhywouldIbeuncomfortable?"

"Um…no reason, I guess." Jane cleared her throat. "Okay, to get a shot down, you're gonna have to put a kink in that perfect posture of yours." She pushed lightly, and Maura's body curved just the slightest bit. "That's it," Jane murmured, running her hand down Maura's arm. "See that white ball there? You're gonna try and ram it into, uh, let's say the purple one, okay?"

Easier said than done. Especially without a proper demonstration, Maura had no idea what she was doing. On her first take, she missed the ball entirely. On the second, she took Jane's use of the word "ram" too literally and wound up spinning the cue ball way off course. Jane brought it back in place, stepping behind Maura once again. With her third attempt, Maura succeeded in getting the object ball to roll forward, although it fell quite short of the pocket she'd been aiming for.

"How much do they weigh?" she asked. "Each ball?"

"Um, I don't know. Why?"

Jane shifted as Maura thoughtfully picked up one of the balls, throwing and catching it a few times in her palm. As she did this, Jane casually lined up Maura's failed shot and took it herself. It was a fairly unimpressive shot, but Maura expressed a congratulations anyway. Jane chuckled and rolled her eyes, now taking on a slightly more complicated shot. Another success.

Initially Maura had intended to watch the table, keen for picking up tips on how to play the game, but she couldn't keep her eyes off Jane's form …any part of it. The way her brow furrowed just before she took a shot; how her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. How the fingers of her right hand stretched with the cue stick, long and olive and supple. Jane's shoulders would shift slightly before each shot, and Maura was reminded of a lioness she had seen on safari once, how she settled herself in the grass in preparation to lunge and strike. At one point, Jane actually perched backwards on the table, lining up the cue behind her back. This time Maura noticed Jane had to struggle to keep both eyes open, but she managed it, and to Maura's surprised delight, made the shot.

"You're incredible!" she cried.

Jane gave a little bow and sank into her best Elvis impression: "Thank you, thank you, thank you very much."

"May I try now?" Maura asked, excitedly holding up her cue stick.

"So long as you don't poke an eye out with that thing, be my guest to tackle the eight ball."

It was a straight shot, and Maura took her time getting into a favorable position. When Jane pretended to start snoring, Maura hit the ball, and then stood straight up in anticipation as she watched it roll towards the pocket. It slowed to a crawl, and after a few anticipatory moments, dropped in.

"Hey!" Jane laughed, as Maura whirled around excitedly to face her. "You're a regular hustler! Nice shot!"

"Well it got quite simple once I understood the physics of it," Maura explained. "You know, taking into consideration the transference of momentum and the friction allowed by the tabletop. Also—"

Jane couldn't help laughing more. "Gee whiz, Maura! Leave it to you to find a way to turn a game into science."

"Well, it makes it easier for me to play that way," she said with a bit of a frown.

A new voice entered the conversation just then: "Hey! What're a couple of pretty girls like you doing in a hovel like this, huh?"

The girls turned, and while Maura was anxious at being addressed like this by a stranger, Jane smiled nervously when she saw it was her father walking over to them. Her nerves were not put much at ease when she got close enough to kiss him on the cheek and could smell the beer on his breath. "Hi, Pop," she said. "I was just showing Maura here the ropes."

Frank reached forward for Maura's hand, which she shook politely as he said, "I'll be damned! You're not _the _Maura, are you? Maura—what was it, Maura Carlisle?"

"Maura Isles, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet _you_, oh yes. My boy's taken quite a fancy to you, hasn't he, Janie?" Frank laughed, elbowing his daughter a little too hard. "And blow me down, I can see why! What's a lovely girl like you doing with a rat's ass like Tommy, huh?"

"Pop, don't say that," Jane muttered. She knew if he wasn't tipsy, he wouldn't be saying such things in front of Maura, but she also didn't like the implication. If Tommy was a gutter rat, so she was she in comparison to a creature like Maura Isles.

Frank waved his hand at her. "Aw, Janie, come on! She's too good for him, that's clear. You've probably already got a boyfriend, haven't you? Pretty girl like you, lots of boys in that school of ours. Maybe you can help Jane find one? Apparently Joey's moved on, is that right, Janie?"

"Uh, we were just gonna go over to Murray's," Jane said, grabbing Maura's elbow and taking a step away. "Sorry we can't stay and chat, Pop. Go enjoy the game with the guys."

"Hey, hey, I ain't done yet," Frank said, pointing a finger sternly at Jane. "What'd your mother say about dressing like that out in public, kiddo?" When Jane didn't answer him, he went on, "I want you should dress how you like, Jane, but your mom and me, we don't like the message you send out with those clothes. That a man's jacket? You want to be a man, Jane?"

"No," she snorted.

"Then stop dressing like one. Maybe Maura here can go shopping with you sometime, huh? You should try that more often, Jane. What happened to that girl you used to be such good friends with? How come you don't spend time with her anymore? What was it… Emily?"

"Pop, we've really gotta be going," Jane said. "Maura's gonna take me shopping right now."

"Oh, really? That's good! Great. Your mother will be thrilled. So long, girls—and Maura, it was swell meeting you!"

Maura wasn't sure how she could honestly return the sentiment, so she merely smiled politely again and waved as Jane guided her back outside. It was clear that Jane was embarrassed by her father's behavior, and Maura decided not to comment on it. She didn't know how to smooth over what had happened, and decided to let Jane steer the conversation whenever she felt comfortable picking it up again. It dawned on Maura that she didn't know where they were going (or, for that matter, if Jane really had another location in mind), and she wished she'd known to bring along a jacket.

"Here," Jane said gruffly, shrugging off Joey's leather jacket and passing it over to Maura.

"But what about you?"

Jane shrugged. "I'll be fine. Trust me, I'll feel a lot worse than I already do if you caught a cold on account of me dragging you out here."

Under light protest, Maura wound up taking the jacket, and for her part Jane tried not to stare.

_That stunt you pulled at the pool hall was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So you want to stay friends? Yes, good. Don't touch her like that. You. Are not. Supposed to. You're a girl. She's a girl. Act like it. Don't pull any more stunts! Don't read anything into the fact that she took your jacket and she's snug in it. _Definitely don't pay attention to how inexplicably sexy it was to see the harsh masculine edge of the jacket wrapped around Maura's soft femininity.

As they walked, Jane kept her hands in pockets to keep them warm. Her black shirt was short-sleeved, and Maura frowned again upon noticing a box of cigarettes tucked into one of the sleeves. Jane glanced her way, almost daring her to make a comment about it, and Maura refrained.

"Where are we going now, anyway?" she finally asked.

"Figured we could go to Murray's. I think Frankie and his girl are there, and we could introduce you to the concept of an egg cream."

"Egg cream? That doesn't sound particularly appetizing."

"C'mon, Maura. Widen your horizons a little bit."

Well, she certainly didn't want to be accused of being small-minded.

As it was a Thursday night, Murray's soda shop wasn't particularly crowded. As Jane had guessed, Frankie was sitting in a corner booth with Riley, and both of them waved as Maura and Jane walked in. Riley was in Maura's class, and while she had never exactly bonded with the girl, had always been pretty amiable towards her.

"Hey Maura, where'd you get the threads?" Riley asked, looking impressed.

"Hm? Oh, Jane leant it to me," Maura said, unzipping the jacket.

Jane nodded at her. "Go ahead and keep it on if you want." Looking at her brother, she asked, "You two lovebirds ordered yet?"

"Yeah, got a malt with our names on it," he answered.

"Sounds good. I'm about to introduce Maura to the egg cream, myself. Go ahead and take a seat there, Maura, I'll be right back."

"Oh, wait," Maura said, reaching for her purse.

Jane touched Maura's hand to stop her from even opening it. "Nuh-uh. This one's on me."

"Wasn't the phosphate on you?"

"No, that one was on Murray. Next time you can treat me, and we'll call it square, all right?"

Maura smiled and agreed, sitting across from Riley and Frankie. "I think Jane's got the right idea here," Frankie said. "I oughtta just start taking out my friends, not go chasing after a girl. Then we'd all pay equal, and I wouldn't be picking up your tab all the time!"

His tone was light, and Riley made a face at him, pinching his nose. The three of them talked about the upcoming fair for a while, with Maura expressing her sympathies that Tommy would not be able to join in the festivities. Frankie muttered "speak of the devil" and Maura turned to face the door, expecting to see Tommy. Who she saw waltzing in instead was Garrett Fairfield and a boy she didn't recognize—probably Rory Graham, someone Jane had mentioned he hung around with a lot. Rory walked past their booth to one that was a few behind it, and Maura leaned over to see Debbie, Emily, and Kate all sitting at it. She reverted her gaze back to Garrett, who was looking at Emily with a certain glint in his eye that was hard to miss.

He was definitely a handsome boy, Maura had to give him that. He had the hair and build of a matinee idol, blonde and brown-eyed and dimpled to boot. He wore his letterman jacket with a certain air of pride, and was clearly trying to attract Emily's attention. Ah, the mating ritual of the American teenager. Fascinating.

Garrett had been distracting enough that it took Maura a moment to realize Riley and Frankie were sniggering behind her. That was when she noticed Jane, standing at the bar just behind Garrett, openly mocking every move he made. Garrett pulled out a comb to fix the hair just over his ear, and Jane smoothed a hand over her own hair in the same place, frowning in solemn seriousness. Garrett leaned slightly against the bar, and Jane exaggerated the posture, tilting her hip as far out as it would go. Since his back was to her, she could only guess at the faces he was making, but she was pretty sure she was doing an accurate job. Catching Maura's eye, she puckered her lips and crooked a finger in her direction, motioning for her to come over. She thrust her hips forward a little, smirking goofily and raising an eyebrow.

Neither Riley nor Frankie could breathe for laughing now, and Maura was blushing and laughing as well. With Jane lampooning him in the background, Emily couldn't really bring herself to take Garrett seriously, and his mission was left unaccomplished as Jane got her and Frankie's orders and brought them back to the table.

Maura had wanted to laugh more, but it was hard. Jane was funny, yes, but part of the joke had stemmed from the fact that Jane's actions were directed at her. She remembered being at a café in Rome the previous summer, where a boy had tried coming onto her sort of like Garrett had Emily just now. Posing at the bar, catching her eye, getting cute.

She wanted to see Jane do that for her, and do it honestly. It could have been sensual, not silly.

As Jane cheerfully told Frankie and Riley about how Maura had just used physics to play billiards, Maura silently pondered how one might efficiently channel all the wasted energy that seemed to be constantly passing between her and the left-handed, non-delinquent next to her.

* * *

**A/N**: Next up, Giovanni in a dunk tank. Aka, le fair!


	11. For Your Precious Love

**A/N**: Did I throw an "Atlantis: The Lost Empire" reference in there? Yes. Yes I did.

* * *

Jane thought the evening was going pretty smoothly until Garrett Fairfield decided to walk up to their table. Leaning his palm down on the surface in front of Jane, he looked past her and said, "Hey, Maura. How's it going?"

"Fairly well, Garrett, thank you."

"Wait, wait. You two know each other?" Frankie asked.

"They're neighbors, man," Jane said.

Garrett arched an eyebrow at her. "Yes, well. I also happened to be at the Isles' home for dinner when your brother helped mine take my car for a spin," he said pointedly. "At the end of the day, it's no big deal, I guess. If the price for a dinner at _casa a la Isles _is a scraped car, it's one I was happy to pay."

"Oh yeah, you're really paying for it," Jane drawled.

Clearing his throat, Garrett gave Maura a look which clearly expressed his confusion at her choice of company. She just shrugged and tried to smile, and he grinned back. "Am I gonna see you at the fair this weekend?" he asked.

"I wouldn't miss it," Maura said. "Sumner and Tommy have had trouble talking about anything else for weeks!"

"Oh yeah, about that," Frankie said. "Tommy's sort of gotten grounded."

"Sumner's being kept from going as well," Garrett said, though he sounded much less sorry about it than Frankie did. He had rather presumptuously put his foot up on the booth next to Jane, and he rested his arm on his knee, still grinning at Maura. "So if you need someone to go with, you're more than welcome to come along with my gang. I know _I'd_ like it."

Giving Garrett's leg a light shove with one hand, Jane put her other arm around Maura's shoulder and said, "Well gee, I hate to burst your bubble there, buddy, but she'll be going there with me. Us." It was a lousy recovery but she went with it anyway, gesturing to Riley and Frankie. "She's got a gang already."

Maura was not accustomed to people competing for her time or attention, and she hated to be rude and dismiss one entirely in favor of the other. "Maybe I'll see you there," she said, smilingly politely at Garrett.

Looking unfazed by Jane's brazenness, Garrett shrugged and took a step back. "You can count on it, doll." He nodded to his friends and they all followed him out of the shop. Bringing up the rear were Emily and Debbie, both of whom made a point at sneering at Jane. She responded by making a face right back at them, then holding her hand low enough so that nobody at her table would see her flip them the bird.

"Those jerks," Jane muttered. "Maura, how can you be so nice to a slimeball like Garrett Fairfield?"

"He's not so bad once you actually talk with him," Maura said. "He's an art aficionado and he loves my mother's work. My parents have been meaning to get to know his family better, and they thought it might be a nice start to have him over for dinner the other night."

"Why _him_? Why not the whole family?" Jane mumbled, picking at the plate of fries she'd ordered a while ago.

"Sounds to me like someone's parents are playing matchmaker," Riley suggested in a sing-song voice.

"Aw geez, Maura, you're not gonna fall for a guy like that, are ya?" Jane groaned.

"You just don't like him because he's rich," Maura said.

"Yeah, and he's rubbed it in my face our whole lives."

"Well you weren't exactly being polite to him yourself just now!"

Frankie give Jane a light-hearted kick under the table. "Lay off him, sis! He's just trying to impress a girl. If she doesn't have a problem with it, why should you?"

Jane said nothing for a few moments until she saw Maura taking another one of her fries. "Maybe you _should _start dating a rich guy," she said. "Then he could afford to buy you your own fries!"

"I don't want my own order, though."

"Then stop eating mine!"

"Jane!"

They were looking at each other, and it was only when Maura made a point of glancing at her left shoulder that Jane realized her arm was still around the girl. Awkwardly bringing it back, she pushed some fries around the plate and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to corner you into coming with us. Guess that made me kind of a jerk, huh? I mean, if you'd rather go to the fair with Garrett and his crowd…"

Maura almost had half a mind to say she'd do just that if Jane didn't start respecting her decisions a bit more. But all Jane had to do for the answer she wanted was furrow her brow upwards, frown favoring her bottom lip, and turn those big brown eyes on Maura, and the choice was out of Maura's hands.

"Don't get dramatic," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Of course I'll go with you."

Frankie put a hand up to his mouth, pretending to yell after Garrett, who was long gone. "Yeah, you hear that? She said 'of course!' Ha, ha!"

Once the fries had all been eaten, Riley said it was probably time she was headed home, and Frankie left to walk her there. It occurred to Jane just then that she had no idea how Maura had gotten to the pool hall, as she'd been standing there alone waiting for Jane to get there. She explained that her chauffer had (with some reservations, considering the area) dropped her off, and she just needed to use the phone in Murray's shop to call and ask him to pick her up.

"You sure you wanna go to the trouble?" Jane asked. "I mean, I could take you. I've got Joey's bike. There'd be enough room on it for you."

The hopefulness in her tone was impossible to miss, and Maura was sorely tempted. But, "I'm not sure my parents would approve, especially without a helmet."

Jane crossed her fingers inside the pockets of Joey's jacket. "C'mon, Maura, what your parents don't know won't hurt 'em!"

"I think their concern would be that it might hurt _me_," Maura said with a smile, the kind that made Jane feel as though her stomach was doing some sort of aerial flip.

"I promise I'll go real slow, c'mon."

Maura bit her lip. "Well, maybe if I called and asked if it was all right…"

"Don't do that if you think they'll just say no. It's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission," Jane said. "Trust me."

"Trust you?"

"Yeah, trust, it's what friends do."

Maura didn't think she was ever going to get tired of being called someone's friend, not even when Jane used that exasperated tone of hers. So finally she relented and told Jane to lead the way back to the motorcycle. Jane smiled and without quite thinking about it, reached for Maura's hand and started to walk. When she realized what she was doing, she worried for a moment that Maura might pull away, but she seemed happy to keep their hands interlocked.

Jane remembered making fun of Frankie when he was excited about the first time he'd held Riley's hand. It had been such a nonissue for Jane when she and Joey reached that stage. In fact, it had always felt a little awkward to her, and she would often slip her hands in her pockets when they walked to avoid having to hold his. How could Frankie gush over something so simple as that?

Well, now she had a good idea, if not as good an idea as Maura. All she could think about was the fact that there were two hundred and fifty nerve receptors per square centimeter in each fingertip, and five of hers were currently pressed hard against the back of Jane's hand as they walked. It was electrifying in a way unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It didn't feel like Jane was trying to possessive (the only word that seemed to make sense to describe her arm-around-the-shoulder move in the diner); it felt like a sincere attempt to just keep close and… oh, wait.

"I think I know why you're doing this," Maura said, giving Jane's hand a squeeze to explain what she was referring to.

_Wait, what? __I__ don't know why I'm doing this! Why would you?! _"Hm?"

"Every time I walk someplace with you, you stay on the curbside of the sidewalk. If we cross the street or turn a wide corner and you wind up on the inside, you go out of your way to be on the curb again, even if I'm clearly trying to do the same thing. This way," she said, swinging their clasped hands a little, "You sort of get to dictate where I stand."

"Hey, I don't wanna be responsible for your dry-cleaning bill," Jane chuckled. "If some punk comes driving down the street and splashes a mud puddle in our direction, it'd be better that _my _cheap stuff got the works, right? I don't even wanna think about how much you must pay to get your clothes cleaned out."

"That's the only reason you do it, hm?"

"Aww." Jane shrugged and smiled, catching Maura's eye. "Heck. Chivalry ain't dead."

By then they had reached the spot where Jane had parked the bike, and she let go of Maura's hand to pull on her gloves. Clearing her throat, Jane got onto the motorcycle and nodded for Maura to get on. After much hemming and hawing, Maura quit stalling and straddled the bike. This was going to be quite different from just sitting on it safely in the driveway. She realized she had no idea how fast these went or what level of bumpiness to expect. She spent a minute or so fixing her skirt so that it wouldn't fly up once they got going, and once properly adjusted, she realized her knees were pressed firmly against Jane's hips.

"Is this all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jane answered gruffly, looking over her shoulder to make sure Maura was situated all right. "Your feet okay? Find the hold?"

"Yes."

"All right. Let's go!"

Jane started up the bike and took off, and Maura's attempt at calm vanished immediately. The other day she'd seen a couple riding together on a motorcycle, and the girl had been quite confidently sitting almost straight, her hands clutching the back of the bike for support. It had looked safe, and yet when Maura tried putting into practice, she could not fight the heart-hammering fear that she'd go flying off at any moment.

Within seconds of their takeoff she had leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Jane's waist, screwing her eyes shut and burying her cheek into the upturned collar of Jane's leather jacket. Due to what she assumed was the suddenness of her move, the bike swerved slightly and her grip tightened accordingly.

"Is this okay?" she asked loudly over the roar of the engine.

"Yeah, it's fine!" Jane laughed.

And Jane found a sensation that was even better than the freedom of riding this thing alone. No wonder Joey liked it when she came along with him. Having someone she was deeply attracted to cling to her like this, try molding their bodies together like this? It was beyond heaven. Jane could swear the only reason air was reaching her lungs at this point was due to the wind whipping past them as they rode—every time one of Maura's hands shifted, Jane felt her stomach lurch and her breath catch. When she finally heard Maura laugh a little, letting go of at least an ounce of her fears but still holding on tight to her, Jane's heart swelled.

This was it. "_It_." This was everything she was supposed to feel with Joey, with Casey, with any of those guys. She was finally feeling it with Maura.

Never had Jane been so simultaneously thrilled and terrified in her entire life.

They reached the Isles' street far too soon for Jane's liking. She inwardly cursed herself for not taking more back roads, lengthening their trip, but maybe this was for the best. Maybe she was letting herself get a little too comfortable in this position. The beginning of the school year, when she had tried to unsettle Maura by "pretending" to flirt with her and teasing her? That felt like eons ago. Now there was always this desperate need to impress surging beneath her, simmering just below her skin, desperate to keep this sweet girl entertained and cared for. Adored.

Maura had forgotten how loud the engine actually was until Jane stopped outside her house and cut it off, and the relative quiet was jarring. "Here we are," she said softly.

Rather than let go right away, Maura kept her hold around Jane's waist for a short while. Slowly she started to unclench, pulling her knees back from Jane's hips and letting her legs stretch out, her right foot finally touching the ground. She gave Jane a gentle squeeze, and Jane reached up to pat her forearm.

"Thanks for bringing me home," she whispered.

"My pleasure."

With that, Maura (slightly awkwardly) dismounted, and started heading up the walk towards her house. Halfway there, she turned around and asked, "Should I just meet you at the fairgrounds tomorrow?"

"Don't be silly! Pop said he'd lend me the car—me and Frankie'll come pick you up around five—maybe a quarter to."

"Frankie and _I._"

"Yeah, yeah," Jane laughed, waving her off.

She turned the bike back on and was trying to think of the fastest way back to Joey's. The growl of the engine drowned out the sound of Maura hurrying back, so Jane barely had a chance to register what had happened when Maura's lips brushed against her cheek. Jane looked up and Maura was already running back to the house.

Jane flew all the way back home.

* * *

The next day, Maura went outside the house promptly at 4:45. Less than a minute later, a humble automobile came rumbling down the street. It pulled to a stop in front of her house, and Maura walked towards it, waving at Frankie and Jane. Riley was already in the backseat, and Maura happily climbed in to join her.

"So! What's—"

Three people concurrently shushed her, and Maura would have felt affronted if she hadn't realized they were all listening intently to the car radio. Jane slowly started to drive the car again, but not a one of them spoke a word. For a few moments, Maura thought they were listening to some sort of police report, but she quickly realized this was a fictionalized account of an interrogation. She had never much cared for procedural radio shows herself, at least not as much as other people seemed to. Riley and the Rizzoli's were so invested that they wound up taking two wrong turns because Jane wasn't paying attention to where she was going and Frankie and Riley hadn't either.

The fair had been set up in a park just down the street from the high school, and the area looked utterly transformed. A Ferris wheel stood almost seventy feet tall in the thick of it, and it was surrounded by a seemingly endless number of tents and other discombobulating rides. Jane found a place to park but didn't turn off the car, which is when Maura resigned herself to the fact that none of them would be going anywhere until the program was over.

A man's voice, confident yet understated: _"We have a warrant for your arrest."_

A woman, sounding shocked: "_Me?"_

_ "Yes, ma'am."_

_ "Now you listen to me, cop. You've got no right to come in here and break up my home. I know all about you cops! All about you. Pussyfootin' around, trying to make everybody think you're so good!" _Frankie and Jane hissed their disgust. _"I know you for what you are! And I tell you this!"_

_ "Yes, ma'am? What's that?"_

"Nothing ever fazes him," Riley laughed.

The woman was slightly hysterical: _"You better get those kids back here fast, do you hear me? You get them back here fast, 'cause if you don't, I'm gonna sue you… and her… and the city for every dime it's got. You ain't half as good as you think you are. You want it plain? Real plain so's you can understand it? You stink! That's what. __All__ of ya—__stink!__"_

"_All right, ma'am, I think that's enough of that. Where've you been for the last two weeks?"_

She sounded self-pitying now. _"It was the most terrible thing that ever happened to me. To anybody. He told me he loved me. Said we was gonna get married. I thought it'd be nice for the kids. That's what I thought. For the kids. We was gonna drive down to Mexico and get married. All nice."_

_ "Uh-huh."_

_ "He walked out on me. Left me right there in the bar, all by myself. All the promises he made to me. All the things we were gonna have. All of it just a lot of lies. Soon as I get a little sick. We just had a couple of drinks. He walked out on me. Left me right there, all by myself, y'know."_

_ "Mm-hm."_

_ "All by myself. I didn't have no money. No way to get back. What was I gonna do? I believed him. I really thought he was gonna marry me. I believed all he said… how things were gonna be better. I believed it all. The dirtiest trick I ever heard of, walkin' out on a girl like that. The dirtiest trick."_

_ "I got one to beat it."_

_ "Huh?"_

_ "The one you pulled on your children."_

The ending theme music blared on, and the Rizzoli's cheered. Riley laughed. Maura just sighed, "How can you be entertained by all that melodrama?"

"Melodrama?!" Jane gasped. "Maura, this is _Dragnet_! Don't you know?" She, Frankie, and Riley all imitated the announcer's voice as it came on to say, "_The story you have just heard is true. The names were changed to protect the innocent_." Jane went on over the sponsor's closing message: "These come from real case files pulled from the Los Angeles police department! Listen, listen, in a minute they'll say how this chick was really convicted."

_"Rowena Esther Telford was tried and convicted of violation of Section 273A-P.C., endangering the life and safety of a minor, which is punishable by imprisonment in the County Jail for a period of not more than one year. The four Telford children were made wards of the Juvenile Court and were placed in foster homes."_

"You think Joe Friday's a real detective?" Frankie asked.

"If he is, I bet they changed his name," Jane said. "I wouldn't mind going out to L.A. and finding him, though! _There's_ a real man."

"Men in uniform your type, Jane?" Riley chuckled.

She shrugged and finally turned off the car. "What can I say? Fighting for justice really turns me on."

The four of them all got out of the car and began trekking towards the ticket booth at the entrance of the grounds, and Maura took the time to appraise Jane's apparel. Angela had browbeaten Jane into at least wearing a skirt if not a dress, but Jane had rebelled in her own way by kicking off her dress shoes at the last and replacing them with a pair of Chucks. She didn't care if it looked silly with a skirt; it was comfortable, and that's all she cared about. For her part, Maura found it rather endearing.

Frankie paid Riley's way, Jane and Maura bought their own tickets, and into the fair they went. Frankie and Riley dashed off for the Ferris wheel, which Jane turned down when she saw the length of the line. Maura tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at a nearby booth, asking, "Is that…?"

"Giovanni!" Jane laughed, walking over. "Whose bright idea was this?"

He had volunteered to be this season's dummy for St. Dominic's dunk tank. "Think you got a shot, Rizzoli?" he asked, holding up his arms. "I know your aim's not bad, for a girl."

"Is that true?" Maura asked teasingly, smiling at Jane.

Jane grinned back. "Yeah, I can throw, pretty girl. Uh—pretty good, I mean."

She flipped a nickel at the other St. Dominic's representative, and he tossed her a ball. Telling Maura to take a step back, Jane took careful aim and launched the ball at the target. She missed. In jest, Giovanni jeered her, and a second ball was tossed her way. Fighting the urge to close one eye as she aimed, Jane threw again and missed again—this time, just barely.

"Come on, you throw worse than a Fairfield!" Giovanni taunted her.

That was the most insulting thing he could think of to say, as Garrett had been by earlier and not even come close to hitting the bullseye. Jane treated the taunt with utmost seriousness, and once getting her third and final ball, hurled it towards the target with all her strength. She swore under her breath when the ball missed its mark for the third time. A few people who'd lined up behind her laughed good-naturedly at the effort, and she felt her face starting to burn with embarrassment. Maybe if she hadn't been trying so hard to impress Maura, she wouldn't have goofed up like that.

Wait. Where _was _Maura?

She looked both ways, and the girl was nowhere to be found. Then suddenly, Giovanni yelped: his seat had been tucked out from under him and into the tank he fell. Everybody was laughing now, and coughing badly, he flipped his hair out of his eyes as he stood up in the tank. Maura appeared from behind the target, laughing, and that got Giovanni to start guffawing as well. While Jane had been prepping for her third throw, Maura had walked curiously around behind the target, and when Jane had missed, decided to flip the switch mechanism for her. Jane's pride was easily wounded, she knew, and if people saw Giovanni caught off guard, maybe they'd stop laughing at Jane.

"Nice shot there, hustler," Jane laughed, as Giovanni wished them well and they walked away.

"I wanted to see how it worked, and you were of no help in that regard," Maura said.

Jane nudged her shoulder. "Hey, don't be a jerk." She frowned when she saw Garrett and his friends at the next booth. "Speaking of jerks…" she muttered under her breath.

"Oh hi, Garrett!" Maura chirped.

"Hi there!" he greeted her back, just as cheerfully. "Jane, hi."

"Hey." She nodded at the high striker, which Garrett was next in line for. "Anyone had much success yet?"

"Rory came close, but he couldn't win his girl that bear," Garrett laughed, nodding at the giant prize being offered to anyone who could beat the game.

Jane wrinkled her nose at the thing: a giant, pink stuffed bear, the size of a small child. Maura, however, was looking at it like it was the Holy Grail. "Don't tell me you want that," Jane said.

"I do, I want it!" Maura blurted out.

"Your parents probably never got you a teddy bear when you were a kid, did they?"

"No. And it looks so soft!"

"It is," the worker assured her. "Just ask any of these fine boys to win it for you, and I'm sure they'd love to give it a chance!"

"Forget it," Jane said, stepping in front of Rory when he was about to volunteer. "I've got it."

"If I don't win it for Emily first," Garrett said, rolling up his sleeves. He paid the worker, took the hammer, and looked up at the bell at the top of the small tower. After pausing for dramatic effect, he swung the mallet down as hard as he could, praying to hear the puck hit the bell and signaling his victory. His friends groaned in disappointment, as he only managed to hit the puck about three-quarters of the way up the tower.

Emily sighed and put her arm around Garrett's waist as he handed the mallet back to the worker. "Better luck next time, hon," she said. "Who needs an old stuffed bear, anyway?"

Pleased that Emily was still at least paying attention to him, Garrett turned around to watch Jane take her shot. "All right, Rizzoli. Let's see it!"

Unseen by any of them, the man working the high striker adjusted the lever on the device slightly, just enough to allow Jane the chance at beating Garrett's score, if not winning altogether. Something about that smarmy kid made him want to see a girl beat him at all costs.

Jane removed her cardigan, tying it loosely around her neck, leaving her in just a short-sleeved top. Maura bit her lip in appreciation of Jane's biceps as she flexed briefly before taking the mallet in her hands. She held it by the ground as she stared at the base she was intended to hit. Just some imagination could take her a long way… she pretended the base was Garrett's pretension. Joey's horny face. Her mother's disapproval. Every nun who'd ever slapped her for writing with the wrong hand.

With a grunt of exertion, she swung the mallet heavily towards the base, and was rewarded a moment later by a sound not unlike a school bell.

The surrounding crowd cheered; even Garrett clapped and looked impressed as Jane let the mallet drop back to the grass. She suddenly felt winded with the surprise at having accomplished it; it felt like it had been so easy and happened so fast. Maura was beaming at her, which was certainly a better prize than the giant pink bear that was foisted upon her moments later.

"So I guess you want this?" she asked, sounding disinterested as Maura eyed the bear longingly.

In response, Maura grabbed the stuffed animal away, and Jane laughed. Garrett's gang had since walked off, and Jane was tempted to take Maura's hand again. Plenty of girls were walking around holding hands, or with their arms linked together, simply because it was a gal-pal thing to do and/or they were wary of being separated in the crowds. For some reason, Jane was just a little nervous about holding Maura's hand in such a public place, even if everyone else was doing it. She was irrationally afraid that she would be followed by a neon marquee pointing to her true intention in the familiar move, and that kept her from doing anything else than leading the way to another attraction.

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for winning this for me."

Jane stopped and turned to look at her. "No problem."

Maura was smiling and dear Lord, Jane had never seen anything so beautiful. She stumbled a bit, caught off guard, when Maura swept the bear in her direction and had it kiss her on the mouth in gratitude.

* * *

**A/N**: Next up, a Ferris wheel ride :)


	12. There's a Moon Out Tonight

**A/N**: Definitely a _Back to the Future _reference lurking in here somewhere :)

* * *

After spending a few minutes watching Maura lug her large new pink bear around, Jane started to wonder if it might be a good idea to put it in the car for safekeeping. When she casually suggested this, Maura looked as horrified as if Jane had suggested setting fire to the fairground, and she instinctively held the bear tighter. Jane couldn't help laughing, explaining she only thought it might be a hassle to keep dragging it everywhere—"and don't get any ideas about having _me _hold it for you. I'm not gonna walk around here with it."

"Oh, Jane…"

"Why don't you let me go put it in the car? What, are you afraid someone'll steal it?"

This hadn't occurred to Maura. "No!" _It's just that so long as people see us together, and not with any boys around, maybe they'll figure you won it for me. You __did__ win it for me. It's proof that you care. _

"Look, you want to go on that Ferris wheel at some point?" Jane asked, gesturing up to the ride. "That bear's not gonna fit in one of those carriages with us. So he'd have to sit on our laps and block the view."

That sold it. Jane ran quickly back to the car with the bear in tow, instructing Maura to stay put while she was gone. Stuffing the pink monstrosity into the backseat, Jane took a moment to look in the rear view mirror, pulling out a comb and hastily trying to brush back some loose hair. With a scowl, she decided to just pull it all back before running to return to Maura.

While Jane was gone, Maura was standing alone by a cotton candy vendor, trying to decide whether she wanted to get some of it. As she contemplated it, watching the sugar hypnotically get spun around and around, she suddenly found herself approached by Emily, Debbie, and Kate. Apparently the boys were elsewhere, as Maura glanced around and could find no sign of Garrett or Rory.

"The boys went for a smoke," Emily said, answering the question Maura hadn't had to ask. "They said they were just going for a leak, but we know better. If they have to smoke, it'd be best they don't do it in front of us girls."

"How…nice?" Maura tried.

Debbie and Kate smirked. Emily grinned at them, then leered at Maura. "Say, you know I think I've got it figured out. I mean, why Jane Rizzoli's so interested in you. You get me, girls?" she asked her friends. Debbie had already told Emily how she'd teased Jane about Maura having a crush on her, and Emily thought it would be hilarious to pull a similar joke on the quiet new girl. Kate and Debbie laughed sycophantically at Emily's question, and she leaned closer to Maura, saying, "What do you and I have in common, little Miss Isles?"

"Not much, I hope," Maura said.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Ever catch Jane trying to get an eyeful of those breasts of yours?" She smirked. "Happened to me all the time. Oh, I'm sure there was nothing to it, not _really_. Jane's probably just jealous, seeing as she's flatter than a pancake!"

The three mean girls burst out laughing, and before Maura could come up with a good retort, Jane had returned. Looking sour, she said, "Hey, why don't you guys go piss off, huh?"

That brought the laughing to an immediate halt, as the three of them gasped. "You ought to watch that mouth of yours, Jane Rizzoli!" Emily scolded her. "What're you, a sailor?"

"Yeah, on leave, and this is my port."

"Oh, really? And is Maura your ship?" Kate asked wryly.

"Maura's my friend. So if you don't back off now, I'm really gonna give you guys something to cry about." She clenched one hand into a fist, holding it up threateningly.

Doing her best to look undaunted, Emily nodded for the other two to get moving. Before walking away herself, she put a hand up to the side of her mouth and stage-whispered to Maura, "You want to button up that cardigan. Cover up a little. It'd make _me _a lot more comfortable for your sake." She gave Jane a last withering look before finally leaving.

"What was that about?" Jane asked.

Maura looked at her for a moment. "Do you remember when I first came to your house to start preparing with Tommy and Sumner for our presentation on Ancient Rome?"

"That time I walked you home? Yeah."

"And we sort of had that bit going about me being an Empress, and you being a—well, a slave. You said you thought I had spectacular breasts."

"I—_geez_, Maura!" Jane whispered sharply, whipping around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear their conversation. The general sounds of the fair, music playing and people chattering, covered it up well enough. Still, Jane rubbed the back of her neck with discomfort and spoke as quietly as she could: "Don't go broadcasting that!"

"Why not? Wasn't it in jest?" _Maybe Emily wasn't just teasing me…_

Jane's eyes darted down to Maura's chest despite her best efforts for that not to happen. "Well yeah, I was just kidding around," Jane insisted. "But I mean, y'know, if you wanna get objective about it…" She lowered her voice even more, her words slurring together as she looked away and said, "You've got a really nice rack, okay?"

"What?"

"Nothing! You want some cotton candy?"

"You mean fairy floss?"

"I mean…did you just call it _fairy floss?_"

"That's what it's called. At least, in Australia. That's the only place I've ever had it."

"Of course it is. What were you doing in Australia?"

They had unconsciously joined the line for cotton candy anyway, more people starting to queue up behind them. "My father went there for research two summers ago, and I asked if I could go along. He was busy, of course, so I couldn't really spend much time with him. I wound up going around most days with the son in the family we were staying with, the Faulkners. Ian. One of his favorite things to eat was pink fairy floss. He used to take me to get it all the time."

"Yeah?" Jane snorted, already feeling a little jealous of this guy and all the time he must have gotten to spend alone with Maura.

"Yes. He was a very sweet boy, like my own personal tour guide! I got to be so invested in Australian culture and exposed to so much of their wildlife thanks to Ian's perspective and his willingness to show me things. Most children of my parents' friends tired of me very quickly, I'm afraid. I didn't quite know how to get on with them, but Ian was good to me."

"Yeah, well, he was a boy, wasn't he?" Jane asked. "Bet your parents' other friends all had girls, huh?"

"Some of them, I suppose. Are you saying Ian was only kind to me because he's a boy and I'm an attractive girl?"

Jane shrugged uncomfortably. "Didn't hurt, I'm sure."

"Well that's a flawed syllogism."

"Come again?"

"If you're saying a person could only be nice to me and show interest in me because he's a boy, that would mean _you _would have to be a boy." Jane had no fitting response to that, and Maura continued to eye her curiously as they moved forward in line. "Jane, what made you—"

"Hey look, we're up!" Jane said loudly when the kid in front of them finally stepped away. "How much fairy fl—uh, cotton candy you want there, Maura?"

Both of them walked away with their own stick of it, Maura insisting on paying for Jane's after all the soda shop drinks Jane had bought for her in the past. For a while they just walked around the fairgrounds, absorbing the atmosphere and thinking about what they might do next. But when Maura nearly bumped into someone for the third time, Jane thought it might be best to sit down for a while as they finished the cotton candy. All the nearby benches she could spot were occupied, but Jane could see a gentle slope off to the side and up ahead that looked fairly empty.

"C'mon this way," she said, nodding in its direction. Maura followed her, and a few moments later, they had managed to get away from most of the noise of the fair. They sat on the grass and it was right there in front of them, but the noise was considerably lessened, and it was easier to try and eat the candy in peace. "Ah, yes," Jane sighed grandly. "You can see the whole kingdom from here!"

"Which kingdom?" Maura asked confusedly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear (away from the fairy floss) and going in for another bite.

"I just meant all the lights at the fair and stuff," Jane chuckled. "Check out that tilt-a-whirl! Wanna go?"

"Oh, I'm not sure it's a very good idea," Maura said.

"Why not? I know they look like hell, but I'm sure they're perfectly safe."

"No, I mean I haven't the constitution for it. I tend to have a weak stomach when it comes to rides of that nature." Maura laughed softly, picking at a pink whisp of sugar. "It's a bit funny when I think of it. Just looking at a tilt-a-whirl makes me feel ill, yet cadavers give me no nausea whatsoever. And I'd feel fairly safe in wagering that plenty of the people on that ride would vomit up dinner at the sight of a corpse."

Jane had been trying to remember what a cadaver referred to before Maura got frank at the end. "Why have you been in a cadaver lab before?"

"My father's work," she answered with a shrug. "I don't suppose you've ever seen a dead body?"

"My dad's a plumber. If he's come across any human body parts in his career, he's somehow failed to mention it to any of us."

"Oh. Well you needn't sound so disgusted, Jane. They're just dead bodies."

"'_Just_' dead bodies?! Maura, listen to yourself!" Jane laughed. "Geez, can't you see how other people might find that unsettling?"

Maura paused before answering, as if truly attempting to consider it. "I suppose _maybe _I could," she said slowly. "If you hadn't been raised to consider it a normal phase of life and state of being, perhaps, yes. You could conceivably be afraid of dead bodies. But… I don't know; I always found a sense of comfort with them. They don't judge and they don't laugh. They just lend you scientific information and can tell you so many stories without words."

She sighed a little wistfully, looking out onto the fairgrounds with a sorrowful look on her face. Suffice it to say Jane found it a little heartbreaking that Maura was more afraid of living people than dead ones. But considering their approaching company, maybe that wasn't so far-fetched after all.

"Gosh, Emily," Jane called out. "You following me?"

"In your dreams, screw-up," retorted Rory, who was walking with her. "Move."

"Why?" Jane scowled, looking up at him.

"You're in our spot."

"Your _spot?_ We were here first, jackass."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Rizzoli?" he asked, looking shocked.

"No, yours," Jane shot back, puckering up.

Emily almost looked like she wanted to laugh, but Rory was clearly not amused, clenching both his hands into fists. "If you were a boy, Rizzoli, I'd clean your clock for saying that."

"Clean her clock?" Maura asked. "That's an odd thing to do."

"It's an expression," Jane explained, looking at Maura with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Means he'd beat me up."

Maura's mouth dropped, and she looked disapprovingly at Rory. "That's an incredibly rude thing to say! Here's another expression for you," she said, trying to remember a colloquialism she had heard Tommy use once. "Why don't you two make like a tree and—um, get out of here?" Wait, that didn't make sense.

Jane was cracking up. "It's _leave_," she finally got out. "Make like a tree and _leave_, Maura, get it?"

"Oh!" Maura laughed. "That's right! How clever!"

Still laughing, Jane chucked her paper cone (now devoid of spun sugar) at Rory, then cheerfully got to her feet. "Come on, Maura, let's get goin'. Still lots to see!" As they walked back towards the fair, Maura offered Rory and Emily a wave that was not intended to be sincere, and Jane applauded her effort at mockery. They quickly ran into Frankie and Riley, and after catching up on what everyone had been doing, Jane said, "Do me a favor?"

"Sure, sis. What's up?"

"Rory Graham and Emily Thompson are on that hill back there. Wanna go stir up some trouble?"

"Ooh, yeah," Frankie growled.

Riley snapped her fingers "Hey, I've got it! Frankie, think we could ask that guy with the balloons to sell us a couple he hasn't blown up yet?"

It took Frankie a moment to catch on. "You thinking water balloons?"

"You bet!"

Exchanging an evil laugh, the pair dashed off with Jane looking proudly after them. "Let me guess," she said to Maura. "You've never thrown a water balloon."

"_Au contraire_, my friend! I once dropped a water balloon onto the pavement outside my mother's studio—or, as their modern inventor would have originally liked to market them, 'water grenades.'"

"Really?"

"Yes! Nine years ago, Edgar Ellington was trying to invent a waterproof sock to try and solve or at least ameliorate the symptoms of trench foot. He designed a latex coating to fit over a normal cotton sock, but when he tried to put it on, the elasticity of the latex made it difficult to do so. There were several other design flaws, and after one particularly frustrating day, he threw the pseudo-balloon onto his desk and let it break. It was oddly therapeutic, or at least satisfying, and that led to the idea of a water balloon. Or as I said, a water grenade, which he wanted to call it as the initial idea behind the product was to aid soldiers with a common military-related disease."

"Well, I'll be!" Jane laughed. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Mr. Ellington is a friend of my father's."

"Of course he is."

"Yes. We thought it was quite an ingenious idea."

Jane nodded at the ride they had just gotten in line for. "I don't suppose your father's pals with the guy who invented Ferris wheels, is he?"

"Oh, heavens no! They've been around since the early seventeenth century! Although early models were quite different from what we have today. Did you know they were once called 'Pleasure Wheels,' and the rings were moved about by strongmen?"

"I had no idea. Gee, Maura, is there _any_thing you don't know?"

Maura laughed at what she almost considered to be a joke. "There's plenty, Jane! The things I don't know could fill all the libraries on Harvard campus!"

"That's a lot, I guess. How many schools got more libraries than Harvard? I guess I'd have to fill a few more than you!" She smiled when Maura politely declined to respond to the bait, sheepishly grinning and averting her gaze from Jane. "So you're gonna go to college, I guess. Want to try Harvard?"

"I'll apply, I suppose, when the time comes. My parents' alma mater is BCU, though, and they're always talking about what a wonderful school it is. My father is teaching there now, actually; that's why we came to live here. I'd really like to join their ranks someday, I think."

"Gosh, I'd love to go there," Jane said softly. "BCU's really the brass ring around here, y'know? One of the best schools on the eastern seaboard."

"Oh, it's one of the best universities in the world! Its student body contains a large proportion of international pupils. You're planning to apply then, Jane?"

She shrugged and tried to laugh it off. "I don't think so."

"What? Why not?"

"I dunno, you gotta be a genius to go there, don't you? I mean I do okay, but I'm not always so good in some classes. Biology, for instance."

"I thought you said I'd helped you get your grades up!"

"I guess that's true, yeah. Maura, it takes a lot of dough to get into a place like that. My family doesn't have the money for it, and I don't think I do good enough in school to get a scholarship. I mean, I dunno, _maybe _if I worked the whole time I was there, I could work out some kinda …well, I dunno."

"There's no harm in applying," Maura said brightly.

"What about the possibility of rejection?"

"Oh, Jane rough-and-tumble Rizzoli isn't afraid of _that_, is she?" Maura asked laughingly. The weak smile she got in return was as surprising as it was saddening. Maura wasn't accustomed to Jane being anything but cocky and sure of herself. "Jane, fear like that is only in the mind."

"Says the girl who's afraid of talking to people, apparently."

"Well, look at me. I'm trying. I could be getting privately tutored if I wished, but I knew the only way I was ever going to conquer my fear of people was to immerse myself in them. You know, some place like a public school. And I'm glad I did that, Jane because it brought me you."

She had meant to say "it brought me _to _you;" not that that sounded any less … well, romantic. Sentimentality was definitely still there, and she felt herself starting to blush deeply when Jane looked curiously at her.

"You mean it?" she asked softly.

Maura nodded, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Yes, Jane, I do. I have a theory, which is that the most powerful weapon on earth isn't a gun or some other sort of physical weapon. It's thoughts. Our thoughts. Fear is a state of mind, not a fixed reality. If my reading of you is correct, your personal defense mechanism against fear is your cynical sense of humor. It's as if you actively try to make people dislike you so you won't feel badly when—or if—they do."

Jane blinked and looked away, numbly moving forward. She had never been diagnosed like that, largely because nobody ever talked to her as candidly as Maura did. Her mother saw her as a brash troublemaker, her classmates didn't know what to make of her brazen (sometimes ribald) behavior, and more than anything her teachers reprimanded her for not acting like more of a young lady. Maybe all this time she'd been living with the fear that she couldn't fit in as a woman in this man's world, the fear that nobody would ever be able to love her the way that she was—a little coarse, more than a little unfeminine, rowdy and loud. Maybe exaggerating those qualities just toughened her up so she could accept them about herself, and screw anyone who didn't want to gel with it. The old "reject them before they reject me" routine.

"Of course it hasn't entirely worked," Maura said. "There are obviously people who like you. Joey, for one. Giovanni is clearly fond of you. Frankie, and sometimes Tommy. Not to mention your friend Frost, right?"

"And you?" Jane asked.

Their eyes met once more, and Maura smiled encouragingly at her. "Rest assured, Jane. I like you very, very much."

They were next in line and waiting for their turn at a cab when suddenly, Sumner Fairfield popped up. "Hi, Maura!" he chirped.

"Sumner! What are you doing here? Garrett said you were grounded!"

"I snuck out," he said gleefully. Jane scowled, knowing the same would be impossible for her own brother—Frank was probably making him sit in the same room as him to keep an eye and make sure he didn't try sneaking away.

"Well, good for you," Jane said. "But you've cut a whole group of people, here."

"I told 'em I was waiting to catch up with my party," he explained. "I've been looking all over for you, Maura!"

As the next available cab emptied, the man running the Ferris wheel waved them up, and Sumner followed Jane and Maura up the small staircase. "Sorry, squirt," the operating man said in a low monotone. "Only two to a car."

"Jane?" Sumner said expectantly.

"Hell no, kid! Get lost!"

Sumner pulled a five out of his pocket and held it towards the man running the ride. He winked and said, "Be a pal and let me up with 'em, huh?"

When it appeared the man was willing to be bribed into it, Maura took Jane's hand and pulled her into the cab. "Thank you, Sumner, but I'd really rather _not _risk an accident. Why don't you trot on back to the end of the line like a nice boy and wait your turn like everyone else?"

"Will you go on with me again?" Sumner asked, looking crestfallen as the safety bar was lowered over Jane and Maura's laps.

"We'll see," she said imperiously, and the Ferris wheel got going.

She had hoped her dismissal of Sumner would please Jane, but Jane looked a little slighted as she slouched down in the seat. "Can you believe that guy?" she muttered. "I mean, he was gonna let a _kid _bribe him into breaking a safety regulation! Oh, and that smarmy little creep …no _wonder _Tommy's friends with him. He just uses his money to get whatever he wants!"

"Jane."

"That drives me nuts! He thinks he can just waltz in anywhere and throw money around—"

"_Jane._"

"—and he expects people to grovel at his feet and bend to his every will just because—"

"Jane!" Raising her voice got Jane's attention, and Maura soothingly took her hand. "Sumner's money doesn't interest me, all right? He can't buy my time or attention with it."

Jane was moved and wanted to act like it, but the words came out of her as if part of her natural instinct: "Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. You're already rolling in money."

"What does that mean? You think I'm only friends with people who are wealthy?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I'm sorry, Maura, I am," she muttered. "Just don't pay any attention to me."

Maura was silent for a moment, contemplating Jane as she leaned over their safety bar, looking only slightly better than miserable. "That's an impossible request, Jane."

She'd already forgotten what she'd said. "What is?"

"Asking me not to pay attention to you."

The words were spoken softly, sincerely. From anyone else, Jane might have imagined there would be a seductive edge to them, but with Maura it was so sweet and innocent and the sound of it was something she wished she could put on a record and listen to over and over. She sat a little straighter, her eyes sweeping over Maura's body as she slowly smiled and returned her gaze to Maura's.

"I _am_ irresistible, aren't I?" she joked, folding her arms.

Maura rolled her eyes and laughed, glad that her words had had the intended effect of cheering Jane up a bit. They rode in silence for a short while, neither having to comment on the beauty of the view from here. Darkness had fallen, and from sixty feet high, the lit up fairgrounds were suddenly a glamorous and enchanting sight to look down. However, it paled in comparison to looking up or straight ahead at the starry sky.

"See that?" Jane said, pointing to a particularly large, bright star. "Polaris. It always leads North."

"How'd you know that?" Maura asked, well-versed in astronomy herself.

"Frankie tells me about stuff he learns with his Scout Troop," Jane said. "Guess they figured it was a good thing to know if a Boy Scout ever gets stranded at sea or something. Always be prepared, right?"

"Good advice, I suppose." There was silence a short while longer, and then Maura decided to change the subject: "You cut me off before. I mean, when we were on line for the cotton candy. I wanted to ask you why you decided to start being nice to me."

"I dunno," Jane muttered, getting a little restless. "Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"

"Well, I just wanted to know if there was some reason in particular. Then in the future, once you graduate or if you get tired of me before then, I'll know what aspects of my personality to accentuate in order to attract more friends."

"Okay. First of all…" Jane sighed, scooting closer and putting her arm firmly around Maura's shoulders. "I'm not gonna get tired of you. Okay?" When Maura didn't acknowledge this, just silently looking down at the fairgrounds, Jane gave her a squeeze and whispered, "Look at me." She waited for Maura to do so before continuing: "I am not going to get tired of you. Got that?"

"How can you be sure?" Maura asked timidly. They'd known each other a relatively short time, and it was Maura's experience that people's patience for her quirks didn't tend to last very long. Even Ian had stopped writing after a while. More than half the time, even her own family didn't seem to make much of an effort.

Jane wished she had more time to think up a good, proper response, one that was worthy of Maura. As it was, she had to try and come up with it on the fly: "Because, Maura. I've never met anyone like you. You're one of the only people I feel like I can really, truly be myself around. I feel comfortable with you. I don't feel that with a whole lot of people."

"Likewise," Maura admitted.

"And there's nothing you need to 'accentuate,' okay? You're perfect the way you are."

"I'm hardly perfect, Jane."

"Practically, then. I like you because you're not afraid of being yourself, no matter how hard or frustrating that might be for some other, lesser people to grapple with. I think you're incredible."

Maura was stunned, or rather shamed, into silence. She was humbled by Jane's praise, but she couldn't help feeling it was a little untrue. If she was honestly unafraid of being exactly who she was, she'd have told someone by now that she was feeling a very strong physical and emotional attraction to another girl. Was it being cowardly or being smart to keep it hidden from Jane, especially?

But even as she considered it, Maura found herself leaning more on Jane's shoulder, eventually resting one arm over Jane's stomach. "No matter what, Jane?"

"Hm?"

"Do you promise that no matter what, you'll stand by me?"

"Well, barring any situation where you become a murderer, yes," Jane said, getting a small laugh out of Maura. Collecting every ounce of courage she possessed, Jane used the arm around Maura's shoulder to pull her close enough to kiss her forehead. "I promise, Maura."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter :)


	13. Rotation Blues

The Ferris wheel creaked along relatively slowly, and one ticket bought two round trips. As their gondola got closer to the ground, Jane and Maura remained closely in place: Jane's arm around Maura's shoulder, with Maura's arm resting over Jane's stomach as she snuggled lightly into her. The man letting people on and off waved at Jane and she held her hand up in acknowledgement as he sent their cab along for a second time.

In spite of the ride's tendency to jolt each time it stopped, Maura found it a lulling experience. Part of that probably had to do with the hour (she had gotten up quite early that morning), the gentle breeze, and the warmth of Jane so close to her. She'd never really been held this way before, and there was something so comforting about it. The breeze picked up a little, and Maura shivered.

"You cold?"

Oh gracious. That voice right in her ear, whispering in a deep, rich tone. Maura found herself impressed by how much concern and tenderness could be infused in two syllables, and two innocuous ones at that.

When Maura didn't respond right away, Jane started to shift, asking, "Do you want my jacket?"

Maura quickly tugged Jane back. "No, no! I'm fine. Just keep—keep your arm around me. That's enough."

Jane instantly obeyed, rubbing Maura's arm a bit in hopes of offering some extra warmth. "You'd tell me if you were lying, right?"

"I wouldn't have to tell you," Maura chuckled. "You'd know."

"Why, are you an awful liar?"

"It's a physical impossibility for me. I go vasovagal every time I try."

"Vaso-what?"

"I faint. Once I told my mother I'd done my homework when I really hadn't, and I passed out."

"Geez, Maura!" Jane laughed. Just when she thought this girl couldn't get any more endearing, she went and had an adorable trait like that. A short silence passed during which Jane contemplated the taste in making a certain remark, but the temptation was too great when she leaned her cheek against Maura's head, nestling into soft golden hair. "Better be careful not to lie up here, then," she said. "Or everyone will find out you fainted in my arms while we were in a Ferris wheel." Maura giggled, and Jane added, "They'll say, 'did you hear the latest about Jane Rizzoli? She's so incredible, she made Maura Isles _faint!_'"

"Oh gosh!" Maura chuckled.

"Admit it, Maura, I make you swoon," Jane teased her.

Maura could not bring herself to reply to that, instead choosing to just let her laughter slowly die out. _Yes, of course the idea of you making me swoon is utterly hilarious! It's so untrue I might cry! A ha, ha, ha. _No. Words would definitely not sell her legitimacy.

Not that this embrace they were locked in smacked of anything but intimacy.

As the Ferris wheel continued on its route, Maura found herself appreciating the silence that had fallen between her and Jane. Normally she was made to feel that any quiet period that fell between herself and another person was a direct result of her inadequate social skills. It meant you weren't interesting enough, you weren't intelligent enough, you just weren't _anything _enough to keep this person's attention. Not to mention, you were awkward and insufficient for being unable to sustain the conversation long enough yourself. More than once, Maura had found herself wishing profoundly for the earth to just up and swallow her whole, ridiculous as the notion sounded, just to save her from some of these occurrences.

But with Jane, the silence was different. It was comforting somehow, bringing new meaning to the word. They felt comfortable enough around each other to the point that they didn't _need _mindless chatter cluttering up the air between them. It was enough just to be in one another's presence, just to be together and appreciate the atmosphere around them.

Maura felt so good and so safe and so cared for that she almost found herself drifting into light sleep.

She couldn't, though. Not when she realized Jane was humming along to the instrumental song that was still audible from the fairgrounds, probably being played by the carousel. With her head lying against Jane's shoulder, Maura's face was partially pressed against Jane's neck, and she could just barely feel it vibrating with each note Jane hummed.

"What song is that?" she murmured.

Jane laughed weakly, embarrassed to have been caught. "I didn't think you'd hear me over all the noise up here."

"Well, I heard you."

"Uh…"

"Is it a song I should recognize?"

"Um… I dunno. Do you know Doris Day?"

"I know _of _her, yes. I've not listened to much of her music, though."

"Oh. Well, um, don't laugh at me, okay?"

"I won't."

"I went to go see this one movie of hers six times," Jane chuckled. "Came out a few years ago. _Calamity Jane_? With uh… with… I can't remember who all else was in it, but it's the first record I ever bought. I used to listen to it when I couldn't sleep, and this is one of the songs from it."

"So it has words?"

"Yes."

"Will you sing it for me?"

Jane's kneejerk response to this question any time anybody asked it was a resounding "no," but Maura proved difficult to turn down. Jane had pulled away enough to look down at her incredulously, and the expression on Maura's face was so hopeful and so sweet that Jane knew giving her a negative response would be akin to telling a kid that Christmas had been cancelled. Usually if she sang a bar or two, she would really yuk it up to cover the embarrassment of singing in the first place, but she felt moved to give it her level best. Still she rolled her eyes, shaking her head and then humming to get back into the flow of the song before it came to the bridge:

"_And when I get that lonesome feelin', and I'm miles away from home …I hear the voice of the mystic mountains calling me back home._"

"Which mountains?" Maura whispered.

Jane held up a finger, communicating for Maura to wait as the answer would be revealed in the verse: "_So take me back to the black hills, the black hills of Dakota …to that beautiful Indian country that I love…_"

Maura had heard Mahler's symphonies performed at the Vienna State Opera. She had enjoyed Verdi's operas at the _Teatro alla Scala_. One of the music professors at her academy in Paris had once been a member of Benny Goodman's orchestra, and frequently favored his class with on-the-spot virtuosos and improvisations.

And yet she didn't think she had ever heard anything more beautiful than Jane Rizzoli tremblingly getting through a few lines from a hokey Hollywood musical.

Jane's vulnerability was clear and if Maura wasn't mistaken, she was actually blushing, as if deeply embarrassed to be exposing something she perceived to be as weak as her singing voice. Perhaps her vibrato wasn't on par with Doris Day's, but she hit every note—and the low ones in particular were so rich and so lovely that Maura thought she really might swoon. The lyrics weren't even exceptionally romantic, but from Jane's alto voice they poured like syrup, pooling into Maura's hopeless heart. Every ounce of what she was feeling was beyond evident in her expression when Jane stole a glance at her.

She laughed uneasily. "And it, um… it just kind of repeats itself from there."

"Beautiful."

"The song? Yeah, I guess."

"No, you. Your voice, I mean. A-and, well, you. You're beautiful too, Jane."

"Well thanks," Jane said bracingly. "Guess it's neat to have a friend who can't lie about that sort of thing, huh?"

"I wouldn't know."

Jane bit her lip, looking back down at Maura. She hugged her a little closer. "Well, I guess I always figured this just kinda went without saying, but you're really pretty, too, Maura. You're beautiful. And that's not a lie."

Was this how guys felt, Jane wondered? Was this how it felt when they'd taken a girl out, gotten her a gift like a stuffed bear, and serenaded them? Was this like being in the moment when he decided he was going to pluck up the courage and try to kiss her? Could he interpret a look like the one Maura was giving her as anything but a green light?

Because a large part of her genuinely felt that if it didn't mean she was mental and needed psychiatric help, she would do it.

_Oh God, oh no. I want to kiss her. I can't. Why is this happening to me? Why me? Why'd she have to be so—why am I so screwed up? Why aren't I normal?!_

Maura frowned as she saw somberness slowly overtaking the carefree happiness that had been so prevalent in Jane's countenance just a moment ago. "Jane, what's wrong?" she whispered.

She reached over to gently cup Jane's face, her thumb brushing the spot where one of Jane's dimples had disappeared. Jane jerked away, shaking her head, and Maura instantly withdrew. "Nothin', I'm fine," she said. "I'm just, uh… I'm kinda tired."

The lie was transparent, and on some level, Jane knew that. What she underestimated was Maura's comprehension of it. She may have been helplessly obtuse when it came to many social situations, but Maura was starting to feel entirely justified in believing that Jane was attracted to her. Hints had been getting dropped since the day they'd met, but initially Maura had whole-heartedly believed Jane was just trying to tease her.

That look, though. The one she'd just been giving her. There'd been nothing funny about it.

Maura had half-expected to be kissed.

More than half—more than all—of her had _hoped _she would be kissed.

Their cab returned to the platform, and this time they were directed out. The man helped Maura out and down, but Jane silently passed his outstretched hand for her and jumped out of the cab, quickly passing Maura. Silently they traipsed past the line, only to see Sumner (who'd made his way up to the middle) clamoring loudly for Maura's attention.

"Maura! Come on and get on line, so you can ride with me!"

Maura glanced at Jane, who looked filled with uncharacteristic self-doubt. "Um… I'm really sorry, Sumner, but I'm exhausted. I was just about to ask Jane to take me home."

He looked sorely disappointed. "You were?"

"Yes, I was."

"Well let me—uh, walk you!"

"Thanks, Sumner, but my feet are so tired from all the walking we've done already. I really need a ride. I'll see on Monday!"

With that, she turned back to Jane, looping an arm through hers and walking in the general direction of the exit. "No sign of a fainting spell," Jane said. "You really wanna go home?"

"I don't _want _to go home," Maura sighed, "but I do feel quite tired, and I really ought to be getting to bed. Could I impose on you to take me home? If not, I can call for a cab."

"Don't be silly, I'll take you," Jane said. "We just need to find Frankie and Riley and let 'em know. I'll probably come back anyways, but just in case they try to find me while I'm gone."

She pulled her arm out of Maura's, under the guise of taking a sharp turn to try and find her brother. It took several minutes of snooping, but he and Riley were finally located by a watermelon stand, where Frankie was in the middle of a very vigorous eating contest.

"Hey guys, look!" Riley said, running over to Jane and Maura. Rather than pointing their attention towards Frankie, though, she pointed to a small pin on her cashmere sweater.

Maura didn't follow at first, but Jane just laughed and gave Riley an awkward hug. "He finally pinned you! It's about time, huh?"

"He did it right after the tunnel of love, too," Riley said, beaming. "Romantic, right?"

"Very."

Frankie came over just then, wiping his face with a towel and looking as if he might be sick. When Jane asked how he did, he said, "See any blue ribbon here? Nah, that Rory Graham was a winner. Guy must have the stomach of a cow. Jane, look at him, though!"

A very tentative looking woman was pinning a blue ribbon to Rory's chest, trying to have as minimal physical contact as possible. This was because he was drenched from head to toe, which Frankie laughingly explained was a result of his and Riley's water balloon attack. Apparently Emily had been gotten even worse, and according to Riley, she'd run from the fairgrounds in embarrassment, not wanting to be seen by anyone. Her salon would be ringing up quite a bill.

"Nicely done, Frankie, I'm proud of ya," Jane said. "And hey, congrats to you and Riley!"

"Thanks," Frankie said. "Geez, Ma's gonna go nuts!"

"Um, in a good way, or a bad way?" Riley asked.

"You kidding? She'll probably throw a block party," Jane chuckled. "Anyhow, I just wanted to find you guys 'cause I'm gonna take Maura home. You want to stay?"

"Yeah, we still need to go on the tilt-a-whirl!" Frankie said.

Riley laughed and patted him on the back. "You're still good for that? Because if you upchuck watermelon on me while we're there—"

He took her hand. "Nah, let's go! Jane, you gonna come back, or should we hitch a ride?"

"No, I'll be back for you guys. Have fun!" By instinct she almost took Maura's hand as well, but she quickly stuffed her hands in her pockets and started to walk, knowing Maura was behind her. "Do you get the pin thing?" she asked, now forcing conversation. "I dunno if they do it over in France, it's kinda silly. It just means Riley is officially Frankie's girl."

"Oh. Does he wear anything that signifies he's hers?"

Nobody had ever thought to posit that question to Jane before. "Um… no, I guess not."

And then suddenly, there it was: horrible, quiet, awkwardness. Where had the easy silence gone? Jane kept glancing over, as if to make sure Maura was still there, because there was no conversation flowing to ensure her of that fact. Maura was mourning the atmosphere that had existed between them before they'd gotten to the end of their Ferris wheel ride, where she had fervently hoped time would just stop. Now it couldn't pass quickly enough. How had they gotten here?

It was almost eerie how quickly the crowds and noise of the fair were left behind as soon as they reached the stretch of lawn where everyone had parked. The lighting was significantly worse; in fact, there wasn't much to go on beyond the moon and a few faraway streetlamps. Partly with this in mind, Jane had parked towards a large tree, and started heading towards it when she noticed a young man and a girl on the fence nearby. She came to a halt and Maura did as well, though she didn't know why until she looked in the direction Jane was pointed towards.

"It's Emily," Jane muttered, her eyes having adjusted to the dark.

Emily's body language made it clear she was uncomfortable, and every time she tried walking away, the man would put his arm out to stop her. Jane whispered for Maura to stay put, then quietly started to sneak towards the pair.

Well, quietly until she said "Hey," loudly enough that Maura could hear it from where she was standing.

"Who's your pretty friend, here?" the man asked Emily.

"None of your beeswax. Get lost."

"Aw, that's not very nice! Em and I were just getting to know each other. I'm not doing her any harm; gosh, I'd never do anyone any harm! I'm a United States Marine, you know. Semper fi!"

Jane's lip curled. Her father had told her about guys like this, enlisted men who felt particularly entitled just because they could claim ownership of the name soldier. "Marine, you're barking up the wrong tree."

He reached out and took hold of Jane's wrist. "Now hang on, girlie—"

That was it. Jane yanked her wrist back, forcing the marine face-first into the metal fence behind them. She held him there, twisting his arm behind his back and pushing him into the mesh. He retaliated instinctively by fighting back—he elbowed Jane in the gut, catching her off guard, and socked her in the face. He pulled back instantly, shocked at what he'd done to a girl, but Jane was not intimidated and gave him a hard shove back into the fence.

"Yeah, get out of here!" Jane called after him when he sprinted away. "Or I'll track down all your marine pals and tell 'em about the scuffle you got into with a girl!"

Maura had run over by this point, protectively reaching for Jane, but Jane shrugged her away.

Emily looked wildly upset. "Jane, what were you thinking?! He could've really hurt you!"

"Well geez, you're welcome!" Jane said incredulously.

"He was just joking around," Emily said through her teeth. "And my brother will be here to get me any minute—he'd have put a stop to it if anything happened!"

"Look, I was just trying to help you out," Jane said, wincing a bit. "You don't owe me anything, okay? I'm not gonna go around bragging about how I fought off a marine for you. Gee, you've got great taste, I'll give you that!"

Emily saw her brother's car drive up, and she waved him down. "Anything he did to you was just self-defense," she said primly. "You had it coming, Jane."

As she walked off, Jane called her a word that Maura had never heard spoken outside of a kennel. Still, Jane watched to make sure she got off okay before slouching back towards her own car, Maura in her wake. She yanked open the passenger door before walking around to her own, and she started up the engine. The radio came on, and Jane snapped it off immediately, throwing them into the third and definitely worse kind of silence.

It was more than uncomfortable, it was angry. Fuming. And honestly, Maura couldn't really blame Jane for it. Emily's reaction had been ungrateful at the least, and shocking at the worst. They came to a red light and Maura realized Jane was sniffling. At first she thought the girl was crying, but then she saw Jane wipe at her nose, and there was blood on her fingers.

"Oh, Jane! Here," Maura said, trying to hand her a kerchief.

Jane scowled and resisted. "Don't bother. I don't wanna soil up your nice things." She sniffed again, producing that awful _hnnk _noise that made Maura's own nose itch. "Look in the glove box, there might be something in there." Maura did as she was instructed, and found a questionable-looking handkerchief that appeared as if it might have been used for an oil rag at some point. But Jane waved it over, and held it up to her nose as she continued to drive.

As they got closer to Maura's house, she decided she'd had enough of the deathly silence, and she wanted to say something.

"Jane?" No response. "I just wanted to say that…_I _thought what you did was quite brave. A little reckless, perhaps, but very brave. Especially considering it was Emily—"

"Shouldn't matter who it was," Jane said gruffly. "You see someone get hurt, you should step in." Another silence was instigated, and Jane stole a glance over at Maura. She felt bad for her curtness, for the way she'd really been acting ever since they'd gotten off that Ferris wheel. Like a jerk. And none of it was Maura's fault; it was all her. "Of course, that guy got off easy."

"He did?"

"Sure. Frost's taught me a bunch of other tricks I coulda used on him to make him stay put. Maybe I just wasn't mad enough. Like, say, if that had been _you_…" She bristled at the thought. "That marine wouldn't have been able to walk tomorrow."

Maura had never imagined that the intimation of brute violence would have stirred these amorous feelings within her, and yet, there they were.

They had reached the Isles home, and Maura thanked Jane and got out of the car. Disappointed with herself for letting their goodbye be so lackluster, Jane prepared to just drive away. But when she looked over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, she saw in the back seat the giant pink bear she had won for Maura. She honked to get Maura's attention, grabbed the bear, then vaulted out of the car, leaving the blood handkerchief on her seat.

New scientific discovery: it was impossible to remain upset when you were running towards a pretty girl, holding an enormous, pink, stuffed bear. Similarly, it was impossible to keep from smiling when a handsome girl you liked very, very much was hurrying up to you with a giant pink bear she had won specifically for you.

"Hey, you forgot your friend here," Jane said, a little out of breath. When Maura just smiled at her, not instantly taking the bear, Jane propped it forward, mirroring Maura's earlier action and having it kiss her on the mouth.

Maura laughed and took the bear from Jane's arms, but her smile faded as she caught sight of a bruise forming near Jane's eye. She awkwardly adjusted the stuffed animal to fit under one arm as she reached for Jane's face, and this time, Jane didn't pull away.

"Lord," Maura whispered. "I think you're going to develop what we might call 'a real shiner' there."

Jane sighed. "Great. Ma's gonna be thrilled."

"She ought to be," Maura said seriously. "I mean… not that you were hurt, obviously, but she should be proud of what you did."

"She won't be," Jane grunted. "She'll say it was none of my business and not to have gotten involved. That I shoulda run back and gotten Garrett or Rory or some guy to come take care of it."

"Well, I maintain my original opinion," Maura said calmly, her hand resting fully on Jane's cheek. "You're very brave."

A moment later, she slid her hand away. As she did so, Jane quickly kissed her palm, and Maura felt as though she might shatter into a thousand pieces. Breathlessly she caught Jane's gaze, and Jane didn't want to leave.

Suddenly Jane was bathed in light, and Maura looked around her to see her father's car pulling into the driveway. Jane turned and felt more than a little embarrassed to see her father's old ramshackle car next to the Isles' Bentley as Constance and Desmond exited the vehicle, walking towards Maura and Jane.

"Well! You two are back earlier than we expected," Desmond said brightly. "How was the—" His words cut off when he caught sight of Jane's bruise and her reddened nose. "Kid, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jane said, resenting the term 'kid.' "Just uh, lost my footing getting off the tilt-a-whirl."

"Fell into a pole? I'm afraid I did that once," Constance chuckled. "I have never ridden once since! Maura, that's …quite a prize you've got there! Did Garrett win it for you?" She remembered Maura mentioning she planned on seeing the Fairfield boy there.

"No," Maura said, hugging the bear a little closer to her. "Jane did."

The Isles turned to look at her in surprise, and before Jane could say it was no big deal, Constance shook her head and said, "Oh, _you're _Jane! We spoke on the phone once, but we haven't had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Constance, this is my husband, Desmond."

"How d'you do," Jane said, shaking their hands.

"My dear, we've heard so much about you," Constance. "I don't think I've heard Maura gush so much about someone since she discovered the works of Willem de Kooning."

"Mother," Maura said shortly.

"Dear, you're embarrassing her," Desmond said in a stage whisper.

Maura looked nervously at Jane, but was relieved to see that Jane was finally smiling again. She was sure the wheels were turning up there, thinking of new ways she'd tease Maura about this tomorrow. It looked like maybe Angela wasn't the only mother who was skilled at making her daughter squirm.

Jane's smile dropped a bit though when Constance said, "You must excuse our manners, Jane. Are you free for dinner tomorrow? We'd just love to have you over."

"Dinner? Uh—tomorrow's… Sunday. Um…"

"Please, Jane," Desmond said brightly. "We'd love to get to know one of Maura's friends better."

Unsure, Jane looked at Maura for a reaction. Maura just shrugged and smiled back hopefully.

"Uhhh… well, if I wouldn't be putting you out…"

"Don't be ridiculous. Tomorrow you will be our _raison d'être_," Constance laughed.

Their raisin debt? Whatever floats your boat, lady. "Neat," Jane said, forcing a smile. "Okay, great. I'll be here."

"Wonderful! Is seven o'clock all right?"

"It's perfect, thanks. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Constance and Desmond were already walking towards the front door. "We're looking forward to it!" Desmond said.

Maura spoke up before Jane could walk away. "Jane, thank you again for tonight. Thanks for everything."

Jane just shrugged and waved. "My pleasure. _Ciao_, _bella_."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for the feedback you've given, guys. I really appreciate it, and I'm glad people are appreciating the story. It's my favorite to work on right now.


	14. Come On-a My House

Constance was about to go head towards bed when she decided to pass by Maura's room and see if the girl was still up.

They didn't really talk much. Not really. Oh, they had many wonderful conversations; just not many that were personal. Constance was proud of Maura's ability to grasp difficult theories of art and history. She loved that her daughter was more fond of classical, beautiful music than whatever pop singer happened to be excessively ubiquitous that week. They'd shared many interesting dialogues regarding these subjects as they wandered through museum halls or tried to fill the silence before a concert if Desmond was not with them. Apart from that, Constance had to admit she did not know her daughter very well, a fact that was becoming increasingly obvious.

Maura had always had trouble making and keeping friends. Now it seemed not only that she had boys vying for her interest (the Fairfield brothers and Tommy Rizzoli), but she actually had a close girl friend. Grammar school had probably been the last time Constance had seen Maura this happy around another girl. They tended to make her uncomfortable, emphasizing the traits she had that kept her from fitting in.

What was it about Jane Rizzoli that had made Maura feel different? What had drawn them together in the first place? These were questions any responsible, caring parent should want answers to. There was no worldly thing Maura had been denied, and for many people, she was considered an exceptionally fortunate child because of that. Some teenage girls loathed the attention their mothers foisted on them- Constance certainly had appreciated that her own mother gave her space.

Maybe Maura didn't want space. Maybe all those girls who found their mothers overbearing had close friends to discuss their issues with.

For a long while, Constance stood outside Maura's door. It was open and the light was on; all Constance needed was something to say. Being maternal had never come naturally to her. It was why she hadn't planned on ever having children. Sometimes she still questioned her agreement to adopt Maura- not because she disliked the girl, but because she sometimes wondered if she might have been better off with a family that was more demonstrative.

You would never know it to look at her, but Constance Isles often struggled with the feeling that she never did enough.

Maura sat up quickly when she heard the knock at her door. "Yes?"

"It's me, Maura. May I come in?"

She slipped over to the side of her bed, smoothing out her skirt. "Of course, mother, please do."

Constance entered the room and went over to stand by Maura's desk. Looking around it, she realized she hadn't been inside in quite some time. It wasn't entirely her fault; Maura wasn't often to be found in her room. She preferred the library (their town's our their house's), the yard, or the study. There was definitely a sense of awkwardness as Constance stood there, trying think of something to say, and Maura sat primly on the edge of her bed, trying not to get lazy.

"The man I dated quite seriously before your father won me something like that once," Constance said, nodding at the enormous stuffed bear that now sat near the top of Maura's bed. "It was much smaller, though. White, and a little dirty when we got it."

"Did you hold onto it? I mean, at least while you were still dating?"

"Oh, certainly not," Constance said, waving her hand. "Who knew where that thing had been?"

"But he won it for you."

"We were just out having a fun time, Maura. Do you intend on keeping that thing?"

Maura glanced at it over her shoulder. "Of course I do."

"I never knew you cared for stuffed animals."

"Neither did I. You never got me one."

It hadn't meant to be accusatory, but Constance couldn't help feeling bad regardless. Maura looked apologetic, but didn't address it. "Will you at least let me get it cleaned?" Constance asked.

"Tomorrow?"

"Of course tomorrow; I don't imagine anything is open now."

"Tomorrow is Sunday, though."

"You're right. Monday, then. Give it to me and I'll store it downstairs until then."

"No!"

"No?"

Constance looked surprised at the outburst, and Maura scooted back a bit on the bed, clutching the bear's arm. "Please, mother. I know it's silly, but I love it so much already. It really adds something to the room, don't you think? A sort of warmth that it didn't have before."

_You are not a child _was the first thing that came to Constance's mind. But Maura's expression was so hopeful and so open that Constance could not find the power to disagree. She nodded, then cast about for another subject. "Did you go on the tilt-a-whirl at the fair? If so, I must congratulate you on your complexion. I was green for several hours after I went on one."

Maura's hand went up to touch her face, even as she said, "Oh no, I didn't think the tilt-a-whirl would agree with me. I just stayed with Jane the whole time, anyway."

"You...but didn't Jane go on the tilt-a-whirl? She said that was how she got that black eye."

"What?"

"Maura, you were there. She said she was dizzy on dismounting? Knocked into a pole?" Constance raised her eyebrows as Maura started to flush, a sure sign that she was about to be caught in a lie. "Maura? Did something happen?'

"Why would you ask that?"

"I can tell you're on the brink of considering a lie." That, at least, was one handy fact she had on her daughter. "How did Jane get that black eye?"

"What black guy?"

"Eye, Maura. Black. _Eye._"

Maura sighed nervously, averting her gaze from her mother and starting to toy a bit with her braid. "There was a fight."

"A fight?!"

"We were going back to the car, and we saw a girl we go to school with, and she was being ...well, rather forcefully pursued by this young man. A marine."

"Was he...?"

Maura hurried to explain: "She was waiting to be picked up by her brother, and we got the impression that she was trying to shake off the marine, but he wouldn't leave her. He kept stepping in her way when she tried to walk off. Jane stepped in to help, and when he tried to put a move on _her_, well, she reacted. Violently."

"What happened to the marine? Did you report him?"

"No, he got away after he landed a punch on Jane's eye."

"You still ought to give the police a description. I am sure they would want to be notified if a man in the marines is going around harassing high school girls."

"I'll talk to Jane about it," Maura said uneasily. "Just, please-don't say anything to her. Don't tell her I told you."

"Good heavens, why not? I imagine that girl she rescued must have expressed quite a bit of gratitude."

"Actually, she didn't."

"She-well then what did she do?"

Maura was still avoiding direct eye contact, even though she knew Emily's response wasn't in any way her fault. "She thought Jane had stepped out of line. That the situation wasn't as dire as it had appeared, I suppose. I _might _have been inclined to at least listen to her side of it if the marine hadn't gotten so violent with Jane. That was inexcusable."

"Yes, but this girl's response is inexcusable, as well."

"She and Jane have a history," Maura said, shrugging uncomfortably. "I'm sure she doesn't appreciate being left in her debt."

"From what I've heard you say about Jane, she didn't help this girl in hopes of making her indebted."

Maura sighed again. "I don't talk about Jane _that _much, do I?" _After all, it isn't as though we've had many conversations on the matter._

Constance chose not to reply. It was clear that Maura, who typically cataloged and made note of the most minute things in her life, had no idea how much time she spent talking with or about Jane. In the past few weeks, Constance saw Maura on the phone more than she had seen her use one in the girl's near-sixteen years of living. Each conversation had been with Jane, and the one the hadn't been with her and been about her, when Desmond's sister had called to see how everyone was settling in to Boston.

_"...yes, Aunt Ruth, she promised to help me improve my softball game, and I thought of how you used to play! It's a part of our physical education here, and she's supposed to be wonderful at it. ...academia doesn't thrill her, but she does fairly well. I've helped her with biology a bit. ...yes! Oh, and she took me to try a phosphate the other day. I'd never had one before. She's sort of taken it upon herself to make sure that I'm properly introduced to most aspects of Americana, I suppose..."_

That wasn't to mention the fact that whenever Desmond asked Maura about school or her day in general, Jane seemed to be the leading lady in every anecdote. They were small moments, either at the breakfast or dinner table, but Constance quietly observed them all. And in retrospect, it all built up to quite a bit. It was true that she hadn't seen Maura get so animated over a person before that.

_"And you should've seen the look on Jane's face!"_

_"You'll never guess what Jane did today!"_

_"I thought Jane was about to just lose her mind over it!"_

_"Jane said it was all right, so I might go."_

_"Jane was the first to compliment that necklace you got me, father."_

_"Jane leant me this notebook; I forgot to give it back."_

_"Jane said"_

_"Jane asked"_

_"Jane told me"_

_"Jane"_

_**Jane"**_

_"Jane!"_

_"I really think she's as fond of me as I am of her. It's nice, having friends."_

Constance thought it was sweet. She had always been a bit of a lone wolf herself, not caring for most girls her age. They were vapid and shallow, tending to gossip about issues Constance really had no interest in. The boys weren't as bad, and she would usually fall in with them. But how nice for Maura to have a female confidant, to have someone she enjoyed spending time with. Making other friends might be a good idea, though. It seemed that the pendulum had swung hard and swung far for Maura: going from solitude right into a friendship this exclusive could be seen as a tad... obsessive? Really it was cute to see Maura so invested in a relationship, but was it normal for one girl to be so singularly attached to another?

_Well, perhaps, if..._

No. Surely not Maura.

She just has yet to properly understand social customs between American teenagers. She's such a bright thing, but so slow to the uptake in situations like these. Why doesn't she talk more about Tommy or Sumner? Those boys are practically falling over themselves trying to get in good with her. Hm. Maybe Jane doesn't have to try. Maybe it's nice not to feel like all a person is doing is trying to impress you so he can kiss you.

Little did Constance realize.

There had been a bit of an awkward silence while Constance contemplated this, and it did nothing but amp up Maura's nervousness. "Mother?" she asked hesitantly. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, of course. Yes. If you wish me to remain silent on the nature of Jane's injury, I will do so."

"Please."

"All right. Well, then. I shall make sure to put together a menu for Yvette to shop for tomorrow, and we'll make sure we put on a wonderful dinner for... your friend."

With that, Constance bid her daughter goodnight and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Maura let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Quickly she changed into a nightgown, turned off her light, and slipped into bed. Settled against the pillows, she reached over for the bear and hugged it close to her. A smile involuntarily followed. It was an inanimate object. It could provide no protection and return no affection, and yet, it just felt so _good _to have something to cling onto here in the dark. And not just anything. Something Jane had gotten for her. Had won for her.

The scene kept replaying in her head: Jane rolling her eyes and smiling, thrusting the bear into Maura's arms. Laughing that sweet, unguarded laugh of hers; dimples deep and eyes bright. As sleep descended slowly on Maura, the memory kept shifting with each replay to catch up with Maura's most guarded dreams. Jane would smile wider. She would look less embarrassed. She would say kind, affirmative things. Tell Maura she was beautiful. At long last, Jane wouldn't even take the bear. She would swing the mallet that had won him, drop it on the ground once she'd hit the bell, then turn and take Maura's face into her hands and kiss her. Slumber was put off a short while longer as Maura's heart swelled just at the thought. She clutched the bear a little tighter to her, running one hand along the soft plush near its arm. Another unbidden smile unfurled, and she shifted to rest her head on the bear rather than her pillow. It was so soft. It made her feel less alone.

Maura had always been terrible at playing make-believe. Her imagination was always shut down by her desperate need to cling onto empirical things, reality, the ground. It wasn't until she got a bit older and Constance's lectures on the abstract finally got through to her that Maura wished she had learned to better appreciate the capabilities her childhood mind had had for pretend-all the opportunities she had wasted.

She drifted into a light sleep. It was a hazy world, where she could pretend the stuffed bear she had wrapped her arms around was Jane Rizzoli, lying next to her and holding onto her as well.

* * *

Somewhat predictably, Frank and Angela had been alarmed to see Jane return home from the fair with a black eye. She told them the story she had fed the Isles as well as Frankie and Riley. What did it matter that Frankie teased her for being so dizzy she walked into a pole? Who cared if Angela told her to be more careful next time and Frank made jokes about needing sea legs? It was better than the lecture she'd have gotten if they knew she'd picked a fight with a marine. If one of her brothers had done it to protect a girl's well-being, there'd be applause and a clap on the back and proud looks. And maybe her dad would've been supportive, and proud that she took initiative to try and take care of somebody.

But no...girls weren't supposed to get into fights. Not real ones. Leave the heavy-lifting to the guys. _You should have gone for help. You shouldn't have gotten involved. You should have just stood there and waited with her for her brother to get there._

The next day, the bruise really had turned into quite a shiner, and Angela spent the better part of the morning trying to cover it in makeup before mass. Jane tried to fight her off and scowled the entire time, and Angela finally had to give up, acknowledging that it was a lost cause. Naturally everybody at church wanted to know what had happened, and so Jane spread the lie around again, willingly subjecting herself to more humiliation rather than shame herself and her family. Maybe she'd acted out. Maybe she should've just let it alone (especially, she grumblingly thought, given Emily's lack of gratitude). As the collection plate came around, she realized that telling the lie about what had happened was another confession she'd have to tack on for the next time she went.

Fortunately, she had one sure-fire way to get onto her mother's good side. As they left church, she said, "Ma? I know this is real last-minute, but I'm not gonna be home for dinner."

"Excuse me? Why not?"

"I got invited to the Isles'."

Frank whistled and Tommy's jaw dropped. Angela looked very impressed. "The Isles! How fine, Jane!"

"How'd you swing an invitation?" Tommy asked. "Jane, ask if I can come, too!"

"I don't think so, young man," Frank said. "You're grounded, remember?"

"Yeah, and you said I could only leave the house to go to school! How come I had to go to church?"

They'd reached the car, and Frank gave Tommy's neck a light slap for his insolence. "Our house and the house of God. Is that too much to ask? Jane, I think you done good getting yourself invited over there. That's a real nice neighborhood."

"What are you going to wear?" Angela asked.

Here it came. "I was kinda... I was gonna ask if maybe you could take me shopping, Ma. I know we don't have a lot of dough to spend on clothes," she said, raising her voice slightly over the sound of Angela's delighted squeal. "But you said yourself I don't hardly have anything nice to wear 'cause I don't like to shop, so I thought maybe this one time we could actually go out. It'd be rude to show up to a nice place like that in one of my old things, don't you think?"

Angela looked over at Frank, who was silently mulling it over. It wouldn't reflect very well on them or their finances to send Jane over to the Isles in one of the worn, old dresses she had. It was true that Jane normally loathed clothes shopping. They probably ought to take advantage of her willingness to do it while they could- at least, that was the message he was getting from Angela, whose eyes he could tell were bearing into him.

Before he could speak, Tommy asked sarcastically, "So that dress is okay for the house of God, but not the Isles' house? Yeah, that makes sense."

Jane shoved him hard in the ribs, and Frank said when they got home, he'd give her and Angela some money for a new dress.

"I don't think your father knows what nice things go for these days," Angela said, thumbing through the bills he'd given her as she and Jane started walking into town. "But don't worry, Janie. We'll find something. Oh!" she laughed, looping her arms through Jane's. "I'm just so thrilled, Janie! Look at you and me, going into town, going to buy a dress! See? We could do this all the time!"

"Yeah, I'm having a ball already," Jane mumbled.

Three shops, eleven dresses. Jane hated every second, but for once, it wasn't her mother's fault that they were taking so long. Again Angela was ecstatic that Jane was taking this so seriously, but Jane doubted very much that she'd be at all pleased to know why Jane was going to all this trouble.

The first time she'd met Joey's family, she'd been uneasy only because she'd never met any of them before. She went to their house wearing an old skirt, a casual sweater, and no jewelry.

She wanted to be absolutely perfect for the Isles. Her only vain wish was that she could look their idea of perfect while also being comfortable (a.k.a. wearing something she liked), but this was what was expected of her, and she'd grind her teeth and do it for Maura. Her first impression had already been blown by her crappy car and mussed clothes from the fair, but she was convinced in her ability to win them over tonight. She'd impress them. She'd blow them right out of the water. Make them see a scrappy kid from the other side of the tracks could look put together and classy, given the time and proper notice.

She'd been about to give up before finding the navy blue number they wound up going home with. It was the same color as the only pair of heeled shoes she owned, and it fit her figure beautifully. Most assistants struggled to know what to do with Jane, her figure not quite suited to the styles that were in fashion. Too lanky, too lean, too tall, too broad-shouldered. But this dress hung on her like it was a second skin, and while Angela said she wished it was a brighter color, Jane felt very at home in one so muted. It made her feel strong, a quality she had never equated with dresses before.

The boys all whistled when she put on the dress at home, which gave her a feeling she was less fond of. She knew they were just trying to be supportive (even Tommy), but it still made her feel a little cheap somehow.

Jane even let her mother do her hair, brushing it out and letting it rest evenly over her shoulders. Remembering how Maura had admired it, Jane put on some eyeliner, but she drew the line when her mother tried to get her to put on some lipstick. She'd fallen for that before, and Jane could never manage eating anything without smudging it, and the imprint left on her glass always made her feel self-conscious. How did some women bear it so gracefully? Angela also offered to lend Jane a pearl necklace, but Jane declined in favor of a simple silver clasp that she thought would go nicely with her dress. The hard thing would be telling her mother that this was _not _a turning point, that she would _not _be this interested in getting gussied up ever again. For all of Angela's enthusiasm, Jane might have just announced her intention to become a debutante. This wasn't a breakthrough. Tomorrow, same as always, Jane would be meeting Frost for another training session in her T-shirt and jeans and tennis shoes. This dress was too nice for school and probably even too nice to wear to church except maybe on Easter or Christmas. Who knew when she'd wear it again?

Ah, well. She was wearing it tonight, driving her father's car (after he'd had Tommy wash it thoroughly). Five minutes before seven, she arrived at the Isles' home, took a deep breath, and headed up the walk.

The door was answered by a butler, who said, "Ms. Rizzoli?" Before she could respond, she was grateful to see Maura come running over.

"Jane!" she gasped, pulling her inside. "Oh, my-oh! You look simply..."

She struggled for words, and Jane teased her, "Breath-taking?"

_Literally. Oh, you have no idea. Do you? _"You look beautiful," she enthused. "That dress is gorgeous on you! Did you pick it out yourself?"

"What do you mean? Of course I did! I can have taste when I want it, Maura Isles."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. You look just as nice in your jeans and t-shirts, you know. I just like seeing this side of you."

Jane looked a little baffled. "This 'side' of me?"

"Yes, you know. Polished. It suits you better than I think you'd like to admit."

"Mm. Okay, but you know what I'd like to see, then?"

"What?"

They had been walking down the hall towards the living room, and Jane stopped their progress. Maura turned to look curiously at her, and she felt almost indecent at the receiving end of the look Jane was giving her. "I oughtta put you in my leather jacket and some jeans," she said. "I think that'd be a real good look for you, Miss Priss."

Maura tossed her hair over her shoulder and extended her hand for Jane to shake. "It's a deal, Rizzoli."

A few moments passed with their hands still clasped together, as they looked each other steadfastly in the eye. Eventually Maura turned again to continue down the hallway, but she kept Jane's hand firmly in her own and Jane felt her heart shoot up into her throat with excitement. Suddenly, getting all dressed up seemed so superfluous. She could have shown up in a burlap sack, and she knew Maura still would have re-introduced her to her parents with the same tone of pride in her voice and that smile on her face. But, she did have to admit, she could tell the Isles were pleased by her appearance this time around-black eye notwithstanding, though neither of them brought it up again.

"How are you tonight, Jane?" Constance asked.

"Fine, thank you, ma'am."

"Can we get you a club soda?"

"Sure, thank you. Um...don't let me interrupt, though." She'd heard Mr. and Mrs. Isles clearly discussing something before she and Maura had walked in.

Desmond just laughed, waving his glass a bit. "We were just having a bit of a debate over Jackson Pollock. Genius, or hack?"

"Oh, father, how could you call him a hack?" Maura balked.

"Easy, he saw Janet Sobel's work at the Guggenheim in '45. Thought he could get away with imitating her style because she was Ukrainian and nobody would pay attention. He owned up to it before he died!"

The Isles became engaged in the discussion of Pollock's work, and Jane silently took her drink and looked around the room. The ceiling was astoundingly high, and paintings-real paintings, not reproductions or photographs stretched on canvas-were on the walls. They had nice frames and a few had lights trained on them. Books lined shelves on one wall of the room, thick volumes, some with titles in foreign languages. Even the ones that were in English used words Jane was mostly unfamiliar with. Not a speck of dirt or spot of anything could be found. Her heart jumped a little bit when she realized she had entirely forgotten the host gift her parents had said to bring, the nicest bottle of wine Angela had been able to find. It was still in the car, and as she tried anxiously to decide whether she ought to get it out now or offer to double back for it after dinner.

"...and clearly, he was also inspired by Native American sand paintings, but that doesn't mean he was-I'm sorry, Jane, are we boring you?"

Jane missed Constance's question, but she caught her name, and then realized all three of them were staring at her. "Sorry, what?" she asked.

"Are you familiar with Pollock's work?" Desmond asked, not unkindly.

"I'm...uh, no," Jane admitted. "I'm afraid my family's not really very informed when it comes to the art world."

"That's okay, it's not for everybody," Desmond said, swishing his glass again. "But it's one of the things we all have in common in our family, I suppose. I'm a bit of a sports fanatic, but the girls can't stand it!"

"It's a waste of time, getting invested the way you do," Constance sighed.

"Eh, maybe so. But it's how I like to waste my time."

Jane felt herself blushing and stared at the carpet. Sports were practically all her father and brothers breathed, and she was as invested as Angela allowed her to be. But why be cowed? Maybe Mr. Isles would find it interesting to have someone to discuss sports with, even if his wife thought it was silly. Besides, Maura was probably sitting there feeling bad about the remark, knowing how much Jane enjoyed athletics.

"I like sports," she said, and Desmond looked intrigued.

"Pretty girl like you?" he chuckled.

_Well, normally I don't dress like this, but regardless..._"Yeah, I guess."

"Playing, or watching?"

"Both."

"You ever play softball?"

"I dabbled."

"Has Maura told you my sister played for the AAGBL?"

For the first time that night, Jane looked truly impressed. "She played for the _league? _Get out of town!"

"I swear it's true. I should have you meet her some time, I'm sure she'd like you."

"Yeah!" Jane said. "Yeah, that'd be swell, Mr. Isles!"

"Please," he laughed. "Call me _Dr. _Isles."

Constance cracked up at that one, and Desmond smiled at Maura to let her know it really had just been a joke. "Are you a doctor, sir?" Jane asked.

"Not of medicine. I teach at BCU."

"Oh right, Maura mentioned that."

"What's your father do, Jane?"

"He's, um... he's a plumber."

She awkwardly averted her gaze again, not bothering to mention that Frank hadn't ever even graduated high school. Constance and Desmond exchanged a look, and Maura finally said, "It's steady work, though, isn't it, Jane? And besides, somebody's got to do it."

"Yeah, I guess."

It was hard not to feel self-conscious about something like class when she was sitting in a house like this, like it might have been fit for royalty. She felt like such a phony. The discomfort kept her from noticing that Maura's hand was on her back, rubbing gently up and down in an attempt to soothe her. Jane also failed to notice that she had slumped into what Angela disapprovingly called her "football stance," so named because it was how football players sat on the bench as they watched plays: hunched over, knees wide apart, arms dangling over their legs. In a dress, it was incredibly awkward-looking and definitely the opposite of a ladylike posture. Constance cleared her throat and crossed her legs, raising her eyebrows at Maura, half-expecting her to correct the way Jane was sitting. But Maura missed the cue, more concerned with making Jane feel as comfortable as she could. She placed her other hand on Jane's knee, and that finally got Jane's attention. She sat up straight.

There was a collective sigh of relief when Yvette entered the living room just then, announcing that dinner was ready. Desmond was the first to head out, and Jane brought up the rear of their procession into the dining room, which was more lavishly decorated than anything Jane had ever seen. She could already tell that eating here was not intended to solely be a matter of taking bites and swallowing food. It was supposed to be an experience. An event.

What she wasn't quite sure of was whether she would end up cold and untouched by the end of the meal, or thoroughly grilled.


	15. Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

**A/N**: So yes, I do like slow burns. My record so far is 42 chapters before a kiss, but I don't intend to let this one go on for that long, haha.

* * *

It didn't take long for Jane to realize that dining at the Isles' was going to be a culinary experience unlike any other she'd had. Her mother was a wonderful cook and never failed to deliver exceptional dinners, but suddenly all she'd ever done seemed so simple in comparison to all this grandeur.

Even something as innocent as a salad became as foreign to Jane as the Amazon jungle: in a leafy bed of greens sat various nuts, dried fruits, and thin slices of cheese that were all incredibly unfamiliar. Though her first instinct was to wolf down any food set in front of her, she tried to scale back her bites to be more on par with the refined etiquette of her hosts. She could not for the life of her figure out how they managed to balance or spear the salad in such a way that nothing ever fell; Jane was constantly wincing because particles like the fruit kept slipping off her fork and back into the salad bed. It never made any noise of course, but her awkwardness was fairly obvious. Though they clearly noticed it, none of the Isles made any comments, and Jane couldn't tell if that was better or worse than if someone had at least tried to make a joke.

"So," Desmond finally said, after a long pause. "How are your grades coming along, Jane?"

Even Maura cringed at the tactlessness of the question, but Jane swallowed her pride and said, "Not too bad, I guess. I do pretty good—uh, pretty _well_—in composition, and history. And I've got algebra this year, and that's not so hard. It's just like figuring out puzzles, and I've always been good with those. Biology used to trip me up, but I guess you know your daughter's been helping me out with that."

"Jane wants to go to BCU," Maura said.

Desmond and Constance both looked very impressed. "Really!" Desmond said. "That's a top school, there."

"I know, sir," Jane said slowly.

"Has Maura told you I teach there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, if you'd ever like a tour of the campus, I'd be happy to arrange that for you."

Jane glanced at Maura, who appeared surprised that her father would offer such a thing. Clearly, this was a rare opportunity. "Thank you sir, I'd appreciate that, but …I don't know if BCU is a very realistic ambition of mine. Even if my grades are good enough, I don't …uh, well, top schools take top dollar, if you know what I mean."

"Are you currently employed, Jane?" Constance asked.

"I'm not, no. I used to work at a place that sold Italian ices, but the guy went out of business in the fall."

"Have you ever considered modeling?"

Jane's mouth fell open. "Modeling? Like…for an art class?"

"Oh no, I meant for clothes. Fashion. That dress looks divine on you, dear, and you've just the right build for it." She talked over Jane's slightly-panicked looks towards Maura. "I left a good friend back in Paris who often showcases his work here in the states. If you've any experience, I can give him your name the next time he does a show here. You'd be paid very well."

"I—that's really nice of you, Mrs. Isles, but I haven't got any experience in that, um, area."

"No? What a pity! You really ought to try it, dear. That figure's going to waste."

Desmond cut in: "Oh, I don't think so. Maura said she's fairly athletic, yes?"

Jane wasn't sure if it was actually a question or not, but when Desmond raised his eyebrows at her, she said, "Yes! Yes, I suppose so."

"I'm afraid it's one of my father's greatest disappointments that I never showed much prowess in his favorite sports," Maura said.

"You play some, don't you, dear?" Constance asked, sounding vaguely interested.

The tone surprised Jane, like Constance honestly didn't know. "She dances," Jane said. With a teasing glance at Maura, she said, "Although I'm still not sure how exactly that qualifies as a sport."

"Hey!"

"If it's not an Olympic event, it isn't a sport."

"I'm not sure those are proper qualifications, but just so you know, I also play tennis, I've competed in equestrian, and I fence."

Jane looked honestly impressed at that. "You _fence? _You know how to use a sword?"

"A little. I… won a local championship back at home. In Paris."

"I can't believe you never told me that," Jane said, sounding awed.

Maura blushed a little, and Jane looked back at the Isles. Had they both forgotten their daughter had been good enough to win a tournament? Had they gone and cheered her on, or even known or cared that it had happened? They hadn't seemed particularly distant to Jane until this moment. Or maybe they just took it for granted that their daughter was a genius and incredible at everything she did. Maybe they were used to it. Jane just couldn't help feeling that having someone in your family like Maura was something you should be proud of and excited about every time someone mentioned her.

"How about the club?" Constance asked, looking over at Desmond. "Weren't they hiring recently?"

"Still are, as far as I know. How about it, Jane? You familiar with Skylark?"

Jane barely fought a grimace. That was the club that people like the Fairfields and the Grahams had belonged to for generations: playing grounds of the filthy rich and spoiled ugly. "Yes, I know it," Jane said.

"Their waiting staff has gotten fairly low, I noticed. I'm sure they'd pay very well, if you're interested. I can put in a good word for you!"

After turning down Constance's offer, Jane figured it would probably seem a bit to shoot down a second one. Desmond could talk her up all he wanted; she could still choose never to apply. Like she needed a place besides school for all those jerks to rub their high-class upbringing in her face. She mumbled a grateful acceptance, then realized that somehow everyone was finished with their salads and she still had about half left on her plate.

Two maids had stepped up to start collecting plates, but Constance held up a hand when she realized Jane still had a bit to go. "Are you finished, Jane?" she asked.

So many panic attacks, so little time spent at the table already. How had they all managed to finish when they took such tiny, delicate bites?! Returning the plate as it was now would make her look wasteful and possibly ungrateful; asking for more time to finish would only emphasize that she was behind and slothful.

"Uh—I'm—it's okay, uh…"

"Didn't you like it?" Constance asked, innocently.

Deep breath. You're cool. "Yes, I really did. I do. Uh, it's just that my mother always taught us to eat slowly 'cause of, uh… y'know, indigestion?"

"It's true," Maura confirmed, and as she turned to address her parents, Jane got in a few more bites. "Eating slowly allows one to more efficiently metabolize food, and also helps reduce appetite and the likelihood of getting heartburn. I think we'd all do well to follow your example, Jane."

Cue all three Isles to look over at Jane, who was mid-very-large-bite, her plate significantly emptier. She forced down a painful swallow, and tried to smile at Maura, who was giving her that half-exasperated, half-affectionate look again.

"Jane, we've had the pleasure of hosting your brother here for some study sessions," Constance said, as the salad plates were whisked away. "He and Sumner Fairfield appear to be very good friends."

"They are." _Inexplicably. _

"What do you think of the Fairfields, Jane?"

"Uh…well…"

"Garrett, in particular."

"Oh, Garrett. Well, he used to be a bit of a—a bit of a…"

Desmond smiled his understanding. "Wait, I've got it. The type who knows he's got a lot of money, and wants to make sure everybody else knows it?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jane said with an uncomfortable laugh. "We saw him at the fair, though, and he seems to have matured a bit. Seems like a gentleman."

"Maybe you can help us," Desmond said. "Maura's going to come out this spring, and we're trying to find her a good escort."

"Wow, a debutante ball? Guess I'm not surprised." Jane sighed deeply, looking at Maura and picturing her in a white cotillion dress. "So you need an escort?"

"She does, and I'm afraid we haven't been very vigilant about picking an appropriate choice," Constance chuckled.

"It's a long way off," Maura said uncomfortably.

"Yes, but if you put it off for too long, you'll end up like my sister," Desmond said. "Waited until a week beforehand, and she wound up with Andrew McOwens." He grimaced, an expression Maura didn't think she'd ever seen on her father before. "He didn't show up to practice the waltz, and his tuxedo didn't have tails."

"Wow, did your sister ever recover from the shame?" Jane asked, the sarcasm slipping out before she could censor it.

"Hardly," Desmond sighed.

She realized then that he'd thought her concern was genuine, and Jane looked from him to Maura, now appreciating where Maura had inherited her inability to detect sarcasm. One smirk from Constance told Jane that _she _hadn't missed the joke, and Jane was grateful that she decided not to explain it to the others.

"So anyhow," Desmond continued, "We hoped you might be able to steer Maura in the direction of some choice young men for this event. Help cultivate a sort of relationship that's at least respectful if not romantic."

Jane appreciated that he was trying to include her by asking her opinion, but she couldn't help feeling like her family was being snubbed at the same time. Desmond was obviously aware that Tommy spent a lot of time with Maura and that she felt comfortable around him, but that wasn't suitable enough. Tommy couldn't afford to rent his own tux with tails, so he was out.

"I think I could manage that," she said.

"How about you, Jane, have you got a sweetheart?" Constance asked.

"Pretty girl like that?" Desmond chuckled. "The boys must be lined up down the block, banging on her door!"

"Oh, uh, I've got a guy, I guess," Jane said.

Constance raised an eyebrow. "You…_guess?_"

Jane let out a short breath. "Yeah, we just haven't really made much official yet." _Aw crap, he gets home tonight, and I told Ma we broke up. I still gotta figure out how to fix that._ "He's a nice enough guy."

The main dish was then brought out, and Jane had to work very hard not to gag. A fish was lying on her plate, looking fresh as if it had just been pulled from the river, mouth agape and black eye staring up at her. Frank and one of his brothers had once tried taking Jane and Frankie fishing. Frankie had had a natural aptitude for it, but Jane—not typically a child who squirmed—could not handle seeing the poor fish struggling on the ends of the bait, flapping around helplessly. The sight frightened her and creeped her out at the same time, and Frank had never made her go fishing again. The only fish she'd ever eaten was cod or salmon, breaded beyond recognition. Looking down at the fish on her plate, she forced herself to be calm. She could do this. Seriously—if someone as refined and girlish as Maura Isles could see this and be at peace with it, surely she could!

"Are you all right?" Maura whispered. "It's branzino!"

Jane answered discreetly through the side of her mouth. "It's looking at me like I'm personally responsible for putting the hook in! How am I supposed to eat this?"

"Use the fish knife." From the corner of her eye, she could see Jane hadn't moved. She was staring down at her silverware. "It's next to the mallet spoon." Still nothing. "Second from the right. Hold it like a pencil."

Delicately she took fork and knife in hand, taking care to start slicing the fish's backbone very precisely. Jane just shook her head, watching how steady and refined Maura was in this seemingly simple act. She felt like such a phony at this table. She didn't usually get this nervous, or care what people thought of her. Maybe making a joke or two would lighten the mood.

"Do you eat fish, Jane?" Constance asked, concerned that Jane hadn't dug in yet. "I should have inquired about a proper menu for you."

"Oh no, yeah, this is fine!" Jane said hurriedly. "I love fish! It's just that this is all prepared so much more nicely than I'm used to, I hardly know what to do with my silverware! I mean at my house, we'd just—"

She demonstrated by spearing the fish with her knife, a move she instantly regretted for several reasons when the result was a steady stream of fish oil squirting up at her chest. She cried out and Maura gasped, immediately grabbing her napkin and trying to dab away the oil. Jane quickly brushed Maura's hand away when it gently (innocently) came into contact with her breast, and she did her best to wipe out the spot.

Desmond and Constance exchanged a look, neither of them knowing whether it would make the situation better or worse if they were to laugh. From Maura's description of Jane, they had assumed she would be unflappable; tonight, she seemed strangely flustered.

"Don't worry about it, Jane," Constance said, as Jane licked the tip of the napkin to get it wet and try again. "We'll get it dry-cleaned for you."

"What? No, don't do that, it was my fault," Jane said, sounding resentful. Yes her mother would kill her for staining this dress, and no she had no idea where she'd get the money to have it cleaned, but Frank had instilled in her an intense dislike for needless charity, and that was all this offer seemed to be.

"Obviously the fish wasn't prepared properly," Constance lied. "It oughtn't to have leaked—or, er, spurted—that much liquid at you with such a light jab. The fault is ours, and we will get the dress cleaned. It is not up for debate, understood?"

She looked so hard and serious that Jane had no choice but to say, "All right. Thanks."

Maura showed Jane how to remove the skin from the fish to get at the meat, and after a long silence, Desmond asked about the rest of Jane's family. By the time the fish was finished, she had gotten through a brief history of her brothers and her mother. Despite the fact that she was talking a lot, she managed to finish this course at the same rate as the Isles.

Beef wellington was brought out as Desmond said, "So that leaves your father. Tell us, Jane, what did your daddy do in the war?"

"He was a member of the 116th Infantry Regiment, 29th Division. He was on Omaha beach just after D Day."

"Brave man."

"I think so, sir. He still spends a lot of time with the men from his unit. They're sort of like uncles to me and my brothers."

"I will say, fighting alongside a man does bond you to him," Desmond sighed. "I was not particularly keen to keep up correspondence with most of my fellow soldiers, I must say. And most of them, I'd rather keep away from my wife and daughter. Not pleasant people."

Jane noted the uncomfortable air that had settled on the table, and she tried to laugh. "I think my Ma wishes sometimes that my Pop wouldn't bring the boys around so much! Says it makes him act like a kid again, 'cause they were all so young at the time."

Desmond just nodded, rendered silent for a considerable time after that, remembering things he was still trying to forget. Constance ultimately picked up the slack, asking about the extent of Jane's knowledge of art. When Jane guiltily replied that she didn't know much, it sent Constance into a lecture of sorts that wound up lasting through the rest of the course and into the next. Jane's eyes were fixed politely on Constance as she spoke, and for the most part, Constance unflinchingly returned her gaze. Occasionally she would glance at Maura, who appeared as though she forgot anyone was at the table but Jane. It had started innocently enough, and ended with her accidentally putting her elbow into the butter dish near her plate.

Usually Maura found her mother's speeches about art to be fascinating and profound, but perhaps because it was all stuff she had heard several times before, she picked something else to focus on—namely, Jane. Jane's profile in the glow of the candles on the table, which were lit in spite of the brightly shining chandelier above the table. It softened Jane's sharp features, giving her an ethereal glow. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried very hard to hear and file the things Constance was telling her. Between bites of food, her tongue would sometimes slip out to wet her lips, and Maura squirmed a few times. For the first time since Maura had known her, Jane's hair was pulled back into a bun (or what she probably had intended to be a bun; it made her curls a little less reckless, but it wasn't exactly a perfect shape). A few strands had fallen, and Maura had to resist the urge to tuck them back, just for an excuse to touch her.

Jane was breathtaking.

Constance must have made a humorous comment of some kind; Maura didn't hear it, but she saw Jane smile, and her heart flipped. A little sigh escaped her and she put her elbow on the table to let her cheek rest in her hand. Only, she misjudged the distance and put her elbow right onto the edge of the butter dish. Fortunately for her, she quickly realized her mistake and was able to right it before Jane noticed. Constance saw, but tactfully decided to make no remarks.

Dessert was a far cry fancier than cannoli's, but it was at least chocolate, which Jane could definitely get behind. Desmond finally rejoined the conversation, adding his two cents about an artist Constance was apparently taking issue with. When it appeared the conversation was starting to get a little heated, Maura asked,

"Mother, may I be excused to show Jane around the house?"

"Oh, certainly, dear. Go ahead."

Once they were clear of the dining room, Jane sighed heavily and slumped against the stairs. "Gee whiz, Maura! Your parents must think I'm some kind of freak!"

"Why would you say that?" Maura asked.

"_Really_? I acted like a total—I don't know what, but sure not like I was fit to be at that table."

"You did fine," Maura assured her. "They weren't looking down at you; they were amused by you."

"Right," Jane snorted. "Regular old court jester, that's me."

Hoping to divert Jane's train of thought from this rather depressing one, Maura said, "Would you like to see my room?"

That lit her right up. "Would I!"

Maura led the way upstairs, Jane following in eager anticipation. The size of this house was almost unreal, like a castle out of a fairy tale in comparison to her family's humble abode, and she was sure Maura's room would be the same—just as different from Jane's as if it were an ivory tower. As it transpired, Jane was not entirely incorrect: the room was spacious beyond anything she ever could have imagined. In addition to a huge dresser and mirror, there was an enormous bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom. Two nightstands stood on either side of the bed, one housing a telephone and the other a record player.

"Hey, I recognize that guy," Jane said, smiling at the large stuffed bear that sat by Maura's pillow. At little embarrassed to have Jane see where she kept it, Maura mumbled something incoherent and went to move it. Jane quickly intervened, staying Maura's hand and saying, "Don't. It looks good there."

"All right," Maura said breathlessly.

They looked at each other for a moment, then Jane removed her hand, leaning over towards the nightstand that held the record player. "So! What kind of music does Maura Isles like enough to buy, hm?"

The question was innocuous enough, but Maura realized a second too late that she was about to feel embarrassed again. On top of the Mozart and Liszt was her newest purchase: an EP that featured music from _Calamity Jane_, which she and her chauffer had spent the entire day tracking down. Jane let out an appreciative laugh when she saw that it was the record currently sitting on the player, and she let down the needle to start up the music.

"You spoke so fondly of it, and my curiosity was burning," Maura said, which was true enough.

"Have you listened to it yet?"

"Well, some of it. Then you arrived."

"Ah, I see. Did you get to 'Secret Love'?"

"No."

Jane glanced at the album cover. "Well, it looks like it should be on this side."

She flopped onto her back on the bed, not minding that she did so in a nice dress and heels. "Mind if I take my hair down?" she yawned. "It's been bugging me."

"Of course," Maura said, hesitantly sitting down on the bed. "I want you to be comfortable, Jane. You shouldn't have felt like you had to dress up like this for me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Jane chuckled, shaking her hair out and placing the pins on Maura's nightstand. "I dressed up for your parents."

Maura smiled, and Jane sighed in satisfaction, comfortable at last. She rolled onto her side and threw one arm over the bear she'd won. "Wow! This thing _is _soft! No wonder you sleep with it."

"It comforts me," Maura said, lying down on the other side of the bear. She rested her arm across it just beneath Jane's, and she hugged it a little closer to herself as the record's popular single started up.

_Once, I had a secret love_

_ That lived within the heart of me…_

"She really does have a lovely voice," Maura said quietly.

Jane closed her eyes and nodded. "Shh."

_So I told a friendly star_

_ (The way that dreamers often do)_

_Just how wonderful you are,_

_and why I'm so in love with you_.

The music swelled, and Jane's eyes shot open. Maura was looking right back at her, bottom lip between her teeth, as her hand grazed Jane's forearm.

Jane's first panicked instinct was to sit up straight and leave, but that would probably only draw attention to why she suddenly felt so out of sorts. The look in Maura's eyes had shot her heartbeat right up, and as she waited for it to go back to normal, Jane settled back into the pillow next to the bear. She slid her hand into Maura's, interlacing their fingers and eliciting the biggest smile from Maura she'd ever seen.

"Maura," she whispered. "I'm real glad we're friends."

"Me too," Maura said back. "I've never had a real friend before."

"All of 'em were imaginary?" Jane teased her.

"I didn't even know that was an option."

The sad honesty in her voice made Jane's heart ache. "Well," she said quietly, "You've got me. And you'll always have me."

"Thank you."

"Any time."

Jane wasn't sure how much time had passed when she commented that she was going to rest her eyelids for a moment. She dozed off into a light slumber and Maura watched her hungrily, wishing they could always be this close. Lying in bed next to Jane, separated only by a large stuffed animal and holding her hand, gave Maura the most euphoric feeling she had ever experienced.

Her eyes had closed as well, and all too soon (it seemed) their secluded moment was over. A knock sounded at the door, and Maura sat up. Jane sluggishly followed. Maura had expected to see a maid in the doorway, and was surprised to see her mother had gone to the trouble of coming up herself.

"Mother?"

"I hate to interrupt," she said, sounding genuinely sorry, "but it's getting quite late, and there is school in the morning. So Jane, unless you were planning to stay the night…?"

"Oh," Jane mumbled, stretching and getting to her feet. "Gosh, no, but thank you, Mrs. Isles. I'd better get headed home! Thank you for having me."

"It was our pleasure, Jane."

She let Maura see the girl out, and pondered over everything she'd observed tonight as she headed back towards her bedroom. Desmond was sitting in bed with the Sunday paper, looking a little bored at whatever it was he was reading.

"Jane get off all right?" he asked, as Constance started changing into a nightdress.

"Yes. It looked as though she and Maura had fallen asleep."

"Surely they can't find each other as dull as all that?" Desmond joked.

_Quite the contrary, I think_. Constance slipped into bed next to him, and after a few moments of silence, said, "Dear, about Pierre…"

Desmond sighed heavily, closing the paper and tossing it onto the nightstand. "Constance, didn't we discuss him and his 'art' enough after dessert?"

"I just can't help feeling as though you feel predisposed to dislike his art because he is a homosexual," Constance said.

Desmond scowled and cringed at the word, reaching over to shut off the light. "I put up with a fair number of your perverse friends, Constance. Some of them are even quite talented, I'll grant you that. I just happen to think Pierre's work is distasteful."

"You have no issue with nudes in other works. What happened to that cast of _The Kiss _you had made in Switzerland?"

"It's different," he said brusquely. "And that's fine if it's your taste. It just happens not to mine, and so I would prefer not to hang work like it in my home."

"It's my home as well, Desmond."

"I draw the line at work like that. I will not have it in the house, and that's all there is to it, Constance. Understood?"

Constance merely sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up into the darkness. Far be it from her to make assumptions about Desmond or, for that matter, Maura—but she couldn't help feeling that if he objected this strongly to housing a piece of art that depicted two men in an chaste lover's embrace, he would not be keen on his daughter being head-over-heels for another girl.

Maybe Constance wasn't the most attentive or doting parent, and maybe she wasn't as sweet as she could have been to Jane that night. But it was glaringly obvious to her that her daughter was infatuated with Jane Rizzoli, something she could not believe her typically-observant husband had failed to notice.

* * *

**A/N**: I've been remiss and failed to thank those of you who've been leaving reviews- really, thank you so much for the feedback! Writing is a lot of work and I really, really appreciate the comments. Thank you :) I rewrote the ending of this chapter about five times, haha.


	16. Heartbreak Hotel

**A/N**: Kind of got a little all over the place in this chapter, but I couldn't help it. It definitely wound up ending in a way I hadn't planned, and I kind of like that. Anyway, picking up here with Jane leaving the Isles' after that not-so-smooth dinner and falling asleep on Maura's bed.

* * *

"Well, thanks for a great evening," Jane said, as Maura walked her to her car.

"Is that sarcasm?" Maura asked.

"What on earth makes you ask that?"

"Well, more often than not, it's a safe assumption to make with you. It's your defense mechanism."

They had reached Jane's car, and she turned and leaned against it, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow in Maura's direction. "Yeah? Don't hunch. You weren't made to hunch, Maura."

"Come on, Jane. My parents were curt, weren't they?"

Jane shrugged. "I've faced worse than that from my own family. It ain't nothin' to worry about."

"That's a double negative!" Maura said concernedly. "So it _is _something to worry about! Oh, Jane—"

Laughing, Jane held up a hand and said, "It's nothing, Maura, I promise! I really did enjoy myself tonight. I mean how could I not, when I got to end it in bed with you?"

Jane knew that was pushing it, but she didn't care at this point. Sure she liked Maura, but some possibly twisted side of her liked to see the girl blush, too. And she was not disappointed in this vein—but she wasn't expecting to get a taste of her own medicine.

Maura cleared her throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before demurely clasping her hands together. "Well, you're welcome there any time, Jane."

"Your room?"

She lifted her eyes to meet Jane's dark, suddenly nervous ones. "My bed."

Jane tried valiantly to laugh it off, leaning forward and clapping Maura on the shoulder. "You're a trump, Maura! We should do that again sometime. I'll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?"

"Until tomorrow, Jane," Maura said, waving as Jane went to her car. She had started heading back to her house until she heard Jane open a car door and call after her. "Yes?" she asked, turning around.

Jogging back to her with a dark bottle, Jane pressed it into Maura's hands. "Here, this was supposed to be a host gift for your parents. Thank them again for having me, okay?"

"I certainly will," Maura said, examining the bottle. "Ooh, pinot noir?"

"Is that good?"

"They'll love it."

"Great! Don't you be having too much of it, though." Jane winked at her. "I still plan on getting you drunk sometime, Maura Isles. And it ain't gonna be on that."

What Maura didn't say was that she already felt as good as drunk, high off the excitement that had come from falling asleep earlier with Jane next to her. She waved as Jane drove off, then turned and all but danced back into the house. Knowing her parents had already turned in for the night and that it wouldn't be prudent to wake them up simply to say "hey look, Jane left us a host gift," she placed the bottle on top of the liquor cabinet and returned to her room. After she properly dressed to go to sleep, she sighed contentedly and returned to bed.

She threw one arm around the stuffed bear, and inhaled deeply. The scent was just barely detectable, but there it was: Jane's perfume, a faint hint of lavender. How funny that someone who seemed to detest associating herself with anything remotely feminine would bother with perfume, but there it was, undeniably. Maura closed her eyes, and breathing deep, could almost pretend that Jane was still there...

And in a way, she was. Just in Maura's dreams.

"_Hey, c'mon, c'mon, batter up! That's you, Maura. Aw geez, what're you wearing?"_

_Maura skipped up to home plate in a uniform that consisted of a button down shirt and matching skirt. "What? If it was good enough for my aunt in the AAGBL, it's good enough for me!" _

"_A disgrace to the game," Jane muttered. She was in an ill-fitting softball uniform, complete with cap and dirtied running shoes. "All right, show me your stance."_

_Maura took a bat and lined up at the plate the way she'd seen her aunt do it. Very prim and proper, elbows delicately bent, legs tightly together. She made one squatting motion before standing very straight, locked into position. Jane clicked her tongue disapprovingly and walked over with an air of vast impatience._

"_No, no, no," she sighed. "Spread your legs, Maura."_

"_Wh—?"_

"_Spread 'em. Feet parallel to the plate, come on. Knuckles should line up on the bat, too."_

_Starting to sweat a little, Maura adjusted her position accordingly. She had been about to ask Jane if it was all right, when suddenly her breath was gone because Jane was behind her, pressed up against her. That rich, deep voice was in Maura's ear and it was all she could do to concentrate on each word as it came. _

"_Don't be so stiff," Jane whispered. "Do what it is that's gonna make _you _comfortable, all right? Loosen up."_

"_My posture?"_

"_Here..." Jane's hands shifted down to Maura's hips, and pulled them back, bending slightly and fitting them to the curve of her own. "Like this."_

"_Mmm..."_

"_What was that, Maura?"_

"_Don't move."_

"_Wouldn't dream of it." _

Dream... Maura woke up, her heartbeat going fast, and it took her a few moments to realize the scenario she had just imagined hadn't actually happened. Here was disappointing reality, crushing in its implications. She liked Jane. Liked her a lot. A lot more than she had ever anticipated ever liking anyone, especially another girl. There were so many moments were she could swear Jane felt the same way. And even if Jane _did _feel the same way, that didn't mean she was willing to accept it.

Outward rejection was bad enough, but there was so, _so _much more at stake here than merely that.

Her father was already gone for work by the time Maura made it downstairs for breakfast, after a shower than ran slightly longer than usual. Constance had already eaten, but rather than abscond immediately to her studio, she had chosen to wait and see Maura for a moment. If Maura was surprised to see her, she betrayed no evidence of it, and they greeted each other politely at the table as a maid whisked some eggs and breads in front of Maura. Constance lowered her newspaper.

"Did you get into the liquor cabinet last night, Maura? Somebody left a bottle of pinot noir out. I really wouldn't think you'd be that clumsy."

"Oh," Maura said. "I meant to tell you—that was a hostess gift from Jane. She'd forgotten it in her car, I suppose she was so nervous, and only remembered it when she was leaving. I left it out to remind myself to show it to you."

"I see! Poor girl, why do you think she was nervous?"

"Well, I... I suppose she wanted to make a good impression. Did she?"

Constance had to smile at the breathy anxiousness in her daughter's tone. "I have to say, I found Jane's personality very refreshing."

"In what way?"

"Well, we... have not really had the chance to, er—_socialize _with people of her background in some time." (Maura felt dizzy with the possibilities: poor? Italian? Roman Catholic?) "I think it was good of you to befriend her, Maura. I get the feeling she really needed one, and it was a charitable move on your part."

Maura said nothing, struck dumb by the tone of respect in her mother's voice—even if it had come at the cost of being condescending to Jane. She would address that later.

"Now, Maura?"

"Yes?"

"I've noticed you seem singularly... well, preoccupied with Jane, even when you have such lovely other people hanging around, wanting your attention."

"Sumner Fairfield, you mean?"

"Or Garrett. I just don't want you to restrict yourself, Maura, out of fear of being overwhelmed. Unless there is some other reason you prefer to stay around Jane?"

Maura felt herself starting to blush. "Such as what?"

_Clever girl, you're not going to say it, are you? I know you're deflecting. You think I don't pay attention to your life, but I do. I know you can't lie, but I'm not going to force it out of you—__if__ it's there at all. You're smart. You aren't going to do anything on impulse without thinking it through first, and if Jane's behavior last night was any indication, she surely doesn't have the backbone for this kind of thing yet._

"It's nothing," Constance said. "Now, you remember your father and I will be at the symphony tonight?"

"Oh, yes."

"We'll be getting home late, and it's Elsa's night off, so make sure you tell Yvette what you would like for dinner, and she'll do her best."

"Yes, mother."

What Maura told Yvette instead was that she had made alternate dinner plans. Relieved at the reprieve, Yvette did not question her. Maura's plan was to go to a pizza parlor, and maybe invite Jane. That was something she'd been meaning to do for a while now.

Unfortunately, she would not get the opportunity to extend that invitation at school.

As the Rizzoli's treaded the familiar route to the high school, they were interrupted by Joey. Frankie and Tommy kept walking, knowing when their presence wasn't wanted, but Jane stopped obligingly. She couldn't help noticing, though, that Joey didn't look exceptionally happy to see her. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Generally he was a pretty easy-going guy, and she couldn't place the last time she'd seen him look this upset.

"Well, hi, Joe!" she said, acting chipper nonetheless. "How was the wedding?"

"_We broke up?_" he asked angrily.

"We..."

"My family got in late last night, and all I could think about was seeing you at school today," Joey said, his voice as dark as his features. "And there's a letter waiting in our mailbox from _your mother_, expressing her deepest sympathies to _my mother _about the break-up of their darling kids! When the hell did we _break up_, Jane?"

Jane groaned. Of course her mother would do something like that. How could she have fed Angela such a dumb, hole-filled story? Had it really been worth it just to avoid a bout of anger at coming in late? _Yes. She probably would've grounded me. I wouldn't have gotten to go to the fair, or to the Isles' for dinner. Plus now, I've got an out from whatever it is Joey and I've been doing_.

"And where the hell'd you get that black eye?" he almost shouted. "What, you get attacked? This is why you need me around, Jane, so I can keep you safe from things like this!"

"What d'you know?" she sneered, pushing him back. "I got this trying to help someone out, okay?"

"Why'd you tell your mother we broke up?" he asked, catching up as she continued down the sidewalk to school. "Huh? Jane, _why? _What'd I do?"

She kept walking, mostly because she didn't know what to say. It wasn't totally fair, what she'd done to Joey, but she couldn't think of a good way to defend what she'd done. And now that the opportunity had risen to get rid of him, well, she kind of wanted to go with it. Even if it meant never getting to ride on his bike again. _I'll get over it. Now I won't have to cuddle up behind him on that thing. I'll get my own. I'll get my own, somehow_.

"Fine!" he hissed. "You don't wanna talk? Okay! Real mature, Frog Face, real grown-up! I don't know what the heck's wrong with you, but I'm done! We are finished! And I'm gonna make sure every guy in our school knows what a nut you are!"

Jane didn't find that particularly threatening, but she didn't exactly fancy going to school at the moment. The only reason she didn't play hooky was because she knew it would get back to her parents, and she didn't need any more drama in her life at the moment. She avoided the hallways where she always saw Maura. It never did any good when she saw that girl while in a bad mood. Tommy wouldn't have liked to know he was a replacement for who Maura really wanted when she asked if he'd like to go for pizza with her at dinnertime—"and if you see your sister anywhere, tell her she's welcome, as well." (An invitation he conveniently forgot to extend.)

Jane's attempt to avoid upsetting her parents backfired quite badly. Angela hit the roof when she got a phone call that afternoon from Mrs. Grant, explaining that Joey had had no intention of breaking up with Jane.

The moment the kids got home from school, Angela grabbed Jane by the ear and dragged her into the living room. "No backtalk!" she yelled over Jane's complaints. She threw her into an armchair, and Frank got off the sofa, folding his arms and standing by his wife. In a shaking voice, Angela said, "You tell me, Jane Clementine Rizzoli, what is the fifth commandment?"

When Jane didn't answer right away, Frank said, "I'm guessing you've played your fair share of hooky from Sunday School, Jane, but you gotta know this one."

"Honor your father and mother," Jane mumbled.

"Speak up," said Angela.

She repeated it louder, with more spite, prompting Frank to say, "Don't take that tone when you're addressing your mother!"

"So tell me, Jane, were you honoring your parents when you _lied _to us and told us that Joey had gone and dumped you?" Angela asked. "Do you realize how many people you've hurt? I slaved over writing a note to Mrs. Grant, hoping to say just the right thing, telling her I hoped you'd both find happiness elsewhere, and she calls to tell me that as far as Joey knew, you two were still an item!"

"Yeah, well we're not anymore!" Jane spat. "Thank God I've finally got him off my back!"

Angela looked shocked. "What did you say?!"

"I'm done with that slob, Ma! I told ya he'd dumped me because I knew you'd never let me hear the end of it if _I _broke up with _him_—but just so you know, he made it official this morning!"

"What'd Joseph Grant ever do to you that was so bad?" Angela wanted to know. "Huh? Isn't he a nice boy? Didn't he treat you good?"

"Ma, he just isn't for me," Jane said fervently. "Look, I know I didn't go about it so good, but can't you just understand? I didn't wanna go around him anymore."

"You did _not _handle this in a way that was acceptable," Angela said. "Not at all, Jane Rizzoli. You call up that boy and apologize to him."

"No!"

Frank stepped in front of Angela. "Jane, fifth commandment."

"Pop, not you too!"

"I think that boy deserves an explanation, even if you think we don't. It ain't classy, what you've done."

"Oh right, this family's so concerned with being a class act!" Jane snorted, getting to her feet. "Joey Grant can go to hell for all I c—"

Frank cut her off with a sharp slap, and Jane jumped from the shock of pain. Angela was clearly caught off guard as well: she had never seen Frank lay a hand on Jane before. He had always been so lenient towards her errant ways, so quick to stand up for her when Angela wanted to punish her in some way. When nobody moved, except Jane to gingerly touch the cheek he'd slapped, he said, "Ange, get the soap. We're gonna wash this girl's mouth out."

It hurt him to do it, to see the pain in his beloved daughter's eyes. But he'd had a moment of panic, brought on by a remark from one of his drunken friends the night he'd gone to McNally's pool hall and bumped into Jane and Maura there.

"_Shame your daughter weren't born a boy, Rizzoli. You shoulda seen her with that little chick! Smooth as glass. She could teach my boys a few lessons, if you know what I mean!" _

The intimation was one that Frank did not like at all. Of course it was ridiculous; a child of his would never be that way. But taking precautions was never a bad idea—Jane was boyish enough as it was. Maybe it was time to really make sure she was growing up right, with a sense of her place.

"Now look," Frank said in a slightly softer voice, as Angela was getting the soap bar. "If Joey hurt you, I mean really hurt you, that's one thing. Your brothers and I would rip him a new one. But to go behind his back and pull a stunt like this? Not okay, Jane. Not okay to do that to one of the only boys who's ever treated you decent. And definitely not okay to say he should go places like hell when he ain't been nothing but good."

The only way Jane was able to get out of the house was to say she was headed for Joey's to apologize. Instead, she veered over to the alley where she generally met Frost, and there he was with a couple of his friends. The boys teased them for a minute, but that got old quickly, and soon Frost and Jane were left to their own devices. As they headed back to his place, Jane filled him in on everything that had happened with her parents and Joey.

"Sounds like you're in a jam," he said sympathetically.

"Yeah. Hey, your mom home?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good, I could use a drink."

Frost opened the back door, and he and Jane were both surprised to hear what sounded like a scuffle of furniture from inside the house. "Mom?" Frost called, walking inside.

Frost's mother Camille was seated on the sofa next to another woman, very stylishly dressed. Camille cleared her throat and stood up, the other woman following suit. Sounding a little out of breath, Camille said, "Barry! Honey, I didn't know you were—hello! Jane, nice to see you again."

"Mrs. Frost," Jane said, nodding at her.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" Camille laughed. "Jane, this is my friend, Robin. Our husbands are both still overseas."

"How do you do," Robin said, a little surprised to have seen Barry walk in with a white girl. _At least she's polite_, she thought, as Jane shook her hand.

"We were just thinking of going to the softball game," Camille said. "You kids want to come along?"

"Nah, we're okay," Frost said. "But thanks. You two have fun."

He stepped aside to allow the women to pass, and once they were gone, cast a furtive glance at Jane. She still just looked miserable, clearly too wrapped up in her own drama at the moment to think about much else. He actually kind of appreciated that she had confided in him like this. Usually she didn't like to talk about herself much, it was all questions about where his father was stationed and what his school was like and whether he knew of any good concerts coming up (he liked to keep his ear to the ground about that sort of thing).

"Nice your mom has a friend like that," Jane said. "I mean, it must be hard, having the war be over and your husband still gone."

"Yeah," Frost said, going into the fridge and grabbing two beers. "She used to cry a lot, but now mom gets out more often, and I think that helps. It's good she has stuff to occupy her time with, and it gets her off my back, too!"

They shared a laugh at that, clinking their glasses together. "Boy, I could use some of that!" Jane said.

"Hey, I'm sure your mother just wants what's best for you."

"Yeah, but she doesn't get that I don't _want _what she thinks is best," Jane sighed. "Cause you know what I get from all that, Frost? That I'm nothing if I don't have a guy, or I'm not actively _pursuing _a guy. I'm nothing. My whole world was supposed to revolve around Joey, and now that I've gotten rid of him, Ma thinks I'm just ...I dunno, off spinning in space or something."

"Jane Rizzoli, lost in space?" Frost laughed. "I don't think so. You'll get some place, Jane, and you don't need a man to do it."

"Thanks, Frost."

"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em. I know what it's like, Jane. There are lots of people in this country who don't think I'll ever amount to anything, just because I'm not white. I know that's not true, or at least that it shouldn't be. Just like you shouldn't be stopped from living the life you want only because you're not a man."

With a heavy sigh, Jane slumped over the table and rested her forehead on her arm. "Yeaahhh. What a wonderful world that would be, Frost."

* * *

The Rizzoli's were starting to get a little worried when 9:00 rolled by and Jane still hadn't come home yet. Frankie offered to go by Murray's soda shop and McNally's pool hall to see if she was there. Tommy got sent to the bowling alley and the movie theater, two places she wasn't supposed to be on school nights, but liked to haunt on the weekends. By 9:30, with both of the boys still gone, Angela called up a few of her friends and just asked them to keep an eye on their sidewalks in case they saw Jane walk by.

For whatever reason, nobody thought to try Maura until a little after half past nine. Frank got the Isles' number out of the phone book, and after a few rings, Maura picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Maura Isles?"

"Yes, sir. Who is this?"

"It's Frank Rizzoli. I was wondering if you'd seen Jane anywhere."

"Jane? No, I haven't. Is everything all right?"

Frank sighed in disappointment. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. She just hasn't been home for a few hours, and we just got a little antsy, y'know? Look, if she drops by your place or something, let us know, huh?"

"Of course, sir. But I'm sure she's just... off someplace, she'll be back soon."

"Right. Thanks, kid. Goodbye."

Maura hung up, and felt very anxious. She was sure Jane was just having fun on her own somewhere, definitely not in trouble, but she couldn't help feeling a little concerned about it when it had been deemed necessary by the Rizzoli's to call her. Part of her was almost tempted to get Edward out of his quarters and ask him to drive her around town to look for Jane ...though surely, that was overkill.

About fifteen minutes passed of Maura rereading the same paragraph in her history book, too nervous to concentrate, when she heard it. Someone, somewhere relatively close, was attempting to sing.

It came in sharp bursts: "_Oh, since my baby left me!_" Maura's heart stopped, and she wondered if that had just been in her head. "_I found a new place to dwell!" _Not quite in key, but definitely there. Maura jumped off the bay window sill she'd been reading on and ran out of the library. "_It's down at the end of a lonely street at—heartbreak hotel!"_

She ran to the front door and yanked it open. There was Jane, clearly intoxicated, down on one knee. Her hair was pulled back except for one strand that fell over her forehead, perhaps in an effort to better impersonate the singer whose single she was attempting to get through. Blinking up at Maura, who was speechless, she held up a flower she'd pulled from the Isles' yard.

"_You make me so lonely, baby_," she groaned, her husky voice impressively capturing the sweet agony Elvis Presley's did in that song. "_I get so lonely... I get so lonely, I could die_."

"Jane," Maura gasped, pulling the girl to her feet. "Are you—"

She gasped when Jane stepped forward, practically pushing her into the house. "_And although it's always crowded!_" she half-yelled, the alcohol in her breath nearly overwhelming Maura. "_You still can find some room!_" She slammed the door behind her, pushing Maura flat against the wall and pressing up against her, slowly rolling her hips in imitation of the King's style. _"Where broken hearted lovers do cry away their gloom."_

Maura tremblingly put her hands on Jane's hips, trying to steady herself, trying to get much-needed space between them. Her breath caught and all movement ceased when Jane tilted her head towards Maura's neck, whisper-singing into her ear with that peerlessly sexy voice:

_ "You make me so lonely, baby, I get so lonely..._" She inhaled deeply and when she let it out on Maura's neck, just below her ear, Maura felt her knees buckle. "_I get so lonely I could die_."

Maura swallowed hard, her resolve crumbling, but Jane pushed away at that moment. The resultant _swish _of air hit Maura like a bucket of ice water, and she gasped again.

"How'd you like it," Jane asked, "if some greaseball was always up in your face like that, huh? His sweat all over, and you can feel it in his pants, he's all excited and he's tight up on you like that. It's—God, it's disgusting, isn't it? Don't you hate that? He wouldn't let it alone, Maura, he woudn't go. I acted like I wanted it but I don't want it anymore, so I can't I just say that? Can't I say I don't want him around, and can't that be okay?"

"Jane," Maura whispered, fighting hard to regain a regular heartbeat. "Wh-where've you been? Your father called, he's worried about y—"

"My father gave me this!" Jane shouted, pointing to her black eye.

"No, he didn't," Maura said. "That was from the fair, remember?"

"No, _this!_" Jane said, not realizing her cheek hadn't been red for some time. "My father hadn't ever gone and hit me before, he always stuck up for me! But now I go and make the best smart decision of my life, and I get hit for it? What's fair about that, huh?"

"I should... I should call your parents," Maura said, walking towards the phone.

Jane scrambled to get in her way, reaching awkwardly for both her hands. "Please don't," she said. "Please, baby, don't make me go back there."

"I—I can't not tell them, Jane!"

"No-ooo!" Jane groaned, pulling away and stamping her foot. "I came to you to get away from all that, all them! You're my escape, you're my Shangri-La, Maura! Don't send me back there!"

Maura bit her lip, not sure what to do. She couldn't in good conscience keep Jane's presence here secret from the Rizzoli's, but she also know Jane would be in a heap of trouble if she got sent back home.

"Look, what if I ask your parents to let you stay here?"

"School's tomorrow, they don't like slumber parties on weeknights."

"I'll insist. Please, let me try."

Looking at her long and hard (or trying to, anyway), Jane sighed loudly. "Okay." She took off her jacket and thrust it at Maura. When Maura's flustered response was to drape it over a nearby chair, Jane said to check the tag that had been sewn inside. There was her home address and phone number, in case the jacket ever got lost.

Angela's voice was a little anxious when she picked up: "Hello?"

"Hi, An—uh, Mrs. Rizzoli. This is Maura Isles. Jane just showed up here."

"Jane?! Put her on the line!"

"Er, I can't," Maura said. "She's um, she's... too upset to talk right now."

"Maura, I understand you're trying to be a good friend, but Jane should have come home sooner."

"I—I think Joey's done something to upset her," Maura said. "She's extremely distressed, and I don't think it's advisable to—to try sending her home in this state."

"Her father will pick her up! Just make sure she doesn't leave!"

"No!" Maura squeaked. "Mrs. Rizzoli, please, for _my _sake—will you let her stay? Please. My parents are both gone, and I'm all alone in this big house." (Technically true; Edward had his own quarters by the garden shed.) "It makes me feel so much safer having someone else around. It's selfish, I know, but I would so appreciate it if you would let my friend stay here with me."

Going off the very little she knew of Angela, Maura had prayed this tactic would work. Lost, lonely little girl in need of a friend. Jane being there for someone. Maybe this could win her points?

"All right," Angela finally conceded. "All right, maybe it's best to let her cool off there tonight. But you tell her she's to come straight home at lunch tomorrow, understood? Considering you see she gets to school all right."

"Of course!" Maura said. "Certainly, Mrs. Rizzoli. Thank you so much."

Angela snorted. "Thank you for being willing to take her in for the night! Goodbye, Maura."

"Goodbye." Maura hung up, and yelped in surprise when Jane picked her up from behind and swung her around.

"My hero!" she laughed. "You did it! You got me out of going home!"

"Only until tomorrow," Maura reminded her, once Jane had set her down. "Jane, come in the kitchen. We'll get you some coffee."

"No." Jane gestured towards the liquor cabinet. "I want someone to wallow with. You're gonna get piss-ass drunk with me, Maura Isles."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated :)


	17. Goodnight, Sweetheart

After some persistent badgering from Jane, Maura got a bottle of cognac and went into the living room with it. She set it down on one of the tables, and Jane contentedly flopped onto the sofa, not bothering to remove her dirty sneakers first. Concerned about the dirt on the utterly clean fabric, Maura hurried over and sat by Jane's feet, bringing them over her lap so she could untie the laces.

"Atsa good girl," Jane murmured, stretching and folding her hands behind her head.

"How did you get to my house?"

"Hm?"

"How did you get here?"

"Walked. From Frost's. Wasn't that far."

Maura pulled both of Jane's shoes off and lay them carefully, sole-up, on the carpet. "Are you feet sore at all? I could rub them for you."

"No," Jane groaned, reaching for Maura's hand and clumsily pulling her over so that she lay on top of her. "I want you to rub other places."

"Jane?!" Maura whispered.

"Mm? What, Maura, my shoulders," Jane said, sounding impatient.

"Oh. Well, um... then you should roll onto your stomach. That would be a better position for me to access them from."

"No," Jane whined. "Do it from here, up here. Sit up."

A little unsure of herself, Maura sat up so that she was straddling Jane's hips. She leaned downwards, her palms grasping Jane's shoulders, and she started to massage them. It was difficult not to think about what this position felt like, with Jane under her, looking up at her like this, but not exactly meeting her eyes. What Maura had written off as merely a sloppy plan from a drunken mind was actually Jane's plot to get an uninhibited view of Maura's cleavage—and it worked like a charm.

"Focus" was a word that got yelled at her a lot. In class, in Sunday School, when grandma was relating one of her lengthy anecdotes about how hard life in Sicily had been.

She had never tried harder to focus on something than she was currently attempting to fix her inebriated gaze on Maura's breasts as they bobbed slightly with each of Maura's shifts. The collar of her cashmere pink sweater hung low and open enough for Jane to eventually realize,

"You're not wearing a brassiere, are you?" she asked, her voice exceptionally low.

Maura sat up abruptly, moving off of Jane. "I think your shoulders are fine now."

"Hey, you're reflecting," Jane said, wagging her finger as she slowly sat up. "Er, refracting. Uh..."

"Deflecting, and no I'm not," Maura said. "It's just a very indecent question to ask, is all."

"So drink up," Jane suggested, reaching for the bottle of brandy. "Get indecent with me." When Maura squirmed uncomfortably on her side of the couch, Jane shifted closer, clutching the bottle. "C'mon, baby, don't make me drink alone."

Pet names had always embarrassed Maura, or at least made her feel uncomfortable, but hearing that term directed at her from Jane's lips was indescribably delicious.

Jane grimaced. "_Baby. _Joey likes to call me that, or he did. And I'd say it back because if I didn't, he'd get all offended like I didn't love him how he loved me and I don't, it's true I don't and I never did. Baby, baby, baby. How come a girl's always gotta be a guy's baby? If I were a _baby_, could I've done this?" she asked, pointing to her black eye. "I don't think so, Maura. No, no, no, I don't think so. Mm-mmmmm ...mmmMaura."

"What?"

Jane closed her eyes and smiled, lifting her free hand as if preparing to conduct a symphony. "Maura. Your name. It's such a beautiful name, and I'm sitting here all plain Jane."

"You're far from plain."

"Says who?"

"Says I."

"And what am I then, me asks you?"

"Anything but."

There was a brief pause, then Jane threw her head back and laughed—no, guffawed—and if the bottle of cognac had been open, it would've been spilling all over the place. "Me?! Boy, have you got your aisles crossed, Isles!"

Not quite following, Maura said, "I really think you ought to lie down, Jane. Try and get some sleep."

"Nooo, come on! Have a nightcap with me, Maura, please? You said you'd drink before, you'd drunken before, I mean. So you haven't got any beer in the house, and I wanted you drunk on beer, but this'll do for now, so come on. Don't make me be like this alone. I promise I'll let you take me right to bed if you'll drink some brandy, Maura. Please. Just a little—li'l bit?" She held her thumb and forefinger an inch or so apart.

"And if I don't?" Maura asked in a lofty tone of voice.

Jane snorted. "You will."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

Maura clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Bossy!"

"Hey, you're bossy, too," Jane laughed. "You're just soft and polite when you're bossing people around."

"Oh, yeah?" Maura huffed, getting abruptly to her feet. "How's _this _for polite? You're coming upstairs to go to bed, and we can do it the easy way or the hard way."

Her tone was sharp and non-negotiable, and Jane leaned back, impressed. Even Maura's stance was unusually aggressive; she refused to bend. After a long pause (during which Maura wondered if she would have to repeat herself), Jane's lips slowly curved into a smile. She raised one eyebrow and asked, "What's the hard way?"

"I... physically drag you up the stairs."

"Ha! I'd love to see you try."

Maura defiantly reached for Jane's free hand, pulling hard. Caught off guard, Jane stumbled from the couch, the cognac still tightly clutched in her other hand. Once she was able to secure her footing on the carpet, though, she resolutely stayed put. Maura ground her teeth together and tugged as hard as she could on Jane's arm. Smirking, Jane yanked back even harder, consequently pulling Maura right into her.

"There now," Jane said, loosely fitting her arm around Maura's waist and smirking down at her. "That's better, isn't it, doll face?"

Quite honestly, Maura was at a loss for words. If it were anyone else acting this way, she would've stopped taking it a long time ago. But she knew Jane didn't actually mean or intend any harm, and that this was really just a somewhat more suggestive form of her usual teasing. That is to say, the jokes she typically made were at least verbal, and Maura could brush it off. It was a whole other ball game when Jane made those comments while holding her close like this.

Jane dimly registered Maura's semi-shocked expression; how her mouth was open slightly and her eyes a little wide. "What're you thinking about?" she asked.

"I'm trying to recall whether I've read about any cases where a person's heart stopped beating and they stopped breathing but they were still alive," Maura said, all in one breath. Her reason for wondering that: she could have sworn she was currently experiencing both symptoms. She could tell Jane was a little lost. "Jane?"

"What?"

"Bed?"

Jane sighed heavily, removing her arm from Maura's back and handing her the cognac. "So that's the easy way then, huh?"

"What is?"

"You haven't even gotta try. Ask me twice or thrice and I'll jump through a hoop of—a ring of fire if you ask me to." She headed for the door of the living room, then stopped and turned around when she realized Maura hadn't followed her. The younger girl was still standing in the middle of the room. "C'mon, Maura. First you make me be drunk alone, and now you're gonna make me go sleep alone, too?"

In response, Maura tentatively walked to the other side of the room by the drink cart. Jane raised her eyebrows and looked on eagerly as Maura poured herself a shot of brandy. Her reasoning was that if she and Jane were going to share a bed tonight, she was really going to need something to calm her nerves. And, well, maybe a second one wouldn't hurt.

Jane wryly applauded as Maura walked towards the door, giving her head a shake to try and clear it. They eventually made it up to her bedroom, though Jane stumbled a bit on the stairs. "What d'you sleep in?" Jane asked.

Maura quickly shut her bedroom door, even though nobody would be around to overhear any of their conversation. "Just a nightgown."

"Pink?"

"Sometimes."

"Get it on, I wanna see it."

Maura stepped into her walk-in closet, shutting the doors for some privacy as she quickly changed. It was a little difficult to do in the dark, and the fact that she was a bit tipsy also wasn't helping, but she managed eventually. She had settled on a light-pink peignoir made of nylon and chiffon. It felt safe, which was what she figured she needed right now, as she stepped back into her room and saw Jane sitting on the edge of her bed.

Jane frowned as Maura approached, somewhat disappointed that the nightdress wasn't more revealing, but she kept that thought private. She swung onto her knees next to the bed, and closed her eyes.

"Dear God our Father of Heavenly... business... ...amen."

"What did you pray for?" Maura asked, as Jane jumped back onto the bed.

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

"I thought that was birthday wishes, on birthday candles."

"Oh yeah. Well, maybe it's both."

Maura sat on the bed next to where Jane was lying on her back. "So you believe in God, Jane?"

"I guess. God the Father, son the Jesus, and the spirit of holy ghosts. In spirit."

"Three deities," Maura whispered. "How do you... which one do you follow?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, a trinity of beings to follow... don't they ever contradict each other?"

"No!" Jane scowled, as if this were obvious. "They're all the same person, just three people. Get it? So—the ghost listens to Jesus who's really God and his son at the same time. So there's never any disagreement-ing, because they're all just one, but three."

Maura shook her head. "I'm not sure if that's just crazy, or if you're just drunk and not explaining it very well."

"Hey!" Jane grunted, rolling onto her stomach and pointing threateningly at Maura. "Don't say that. Don't you got a God you believe in, Maura Isles?"

"Actually, since you word it that way, I do," Maura sighed, leaning back against the wall. "My god is science."

"Science? How's science a god, even?"

"Easy. It can prove things. It has evidence for things. If there's not already an answer, somebody is looking for it. It's not just this ..._hazy _thing. If a scientist said it or a scientist wrote it, I never questioned it. But now I'm... I don't know what to do. Your gods don't contradict each other. Mine have."

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, let's say that... one god is named Kinsey. The other god is called..."

"Bob?"

"The American Psychiatric Association."

"Doesn't really ring off the tip of the tongue."

"No, it doesn't. We'll call it the APA god for short."

"Okay, that's better. So Kinsey and APA had a thing they disagreed on?"

Maura fidgeted slightly, suddenly worried that if she went further down this line of conversation, the subject of her research was bound to come up. "W-well, never mind _what _it was exactly, except ...Kinsey believes it's natural, or at least flexible, and APA essentially says it's a crime against nature."

Jane whistled (or tried to, anyway). "Ooh, yeah, that's tough. So what're you gonna do?"

Tears had sprung up in Maura's eyes, and she tried half-heartedly to brush them away. "I d—I don't know," she said faintly. "I just want an answer, a definitive answer, and they're so contrary, I don't know which one to believe. I could be crazy, Jane. I might have a serious psychiatric d-disorder."

"Hey. Hey." Jane had finally noticed Maura was crying, and she sat up, doing her best to pull Maura into a hug. "Don't cry, okay? Please don't. I don't know what to do with girls when they cry, um..."

"I just don't know what to do," Maura wept. "I mean I—my mother has friends who have this... issue, and she's never told me that there was something wrong with them."

"And do you trust your mother's—judging? Is she smart about stuff like that?"

"I suppose, but we don't usually discuss things."

"What kind of things?"

"_Any _kind of things."

"Neither do me and your mother. I mean _my _mother, we don't. You wanna know what I think my God would say about whatever your problem is, Maura?"

"What?"

"He'd say side with the god who's against whatever it is you wanna do. Because if it's something you wanna do, it's probably something bad. Everything you want is bad, everything you're _supposed _to wanna do is good. But the two aren't ever usually the same thing, at least if you're me. And you and me are sorta the same age, so I feel like we'd probably be on the same—you know, the same... uh, we'd be similar. Even if you're a better kid than me."

"I can be wild too, you know," Maura sniffed.

"Yeah, right."

"I invited the reckless Jane Rizzoli to sleep with me, didn't I?"

Jane laughed and rolled off the bed, only barely managing to land on her feet. "Reckless, huh? I gotta be reckless? Okay. I'm gonna make you reckless, too. Know how I usually sleep in the summer, when I'm hot, Maura?"

"It's nearly winter, Jane."

"I know, but I always feel really hot in your house. Like I'm burnin' up."

She abruptly pulled her shirt up over her head, leaving her in a white cotton undershirt. Maura had seen her like this once before, when Jane had mowed their lawn and come in for a breather. She sat up attentively, wishing Jane could go around in this state of dress all the time. What she was not prepared for was Jane completing the next step right in front of her: she unbuttoned her jeans and sat down to more easily remove them. Still perched on her bed, Maura leaned over for a better look, swallowing hard when Jane stood back up, leaving the jeans on the floor by her shirt.

It looked as though Jane had stood up too fast. Swaying slightly on the spot, she gripped her stomach and muttered, "Have you got a bathroom handy, Maura?"

Maura grabbed Jane's wrist and rushed her to the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom, and her next task was to hold Jane's hair back as Jane threw up semi-violently into the toilet.

"Knives," she gasped, still clutching the bowl. "Feels like... knives in my stomach, and lava up my throat. What's the scientific word for..."

"Shhh," Maura whispered, rubbing Jane's back and still loosely holding her hair.

Jane went through a second round, then a small spurt of another before sitting up. Glancing at Maura with what might have been embarrassment, she turned and started crawling back to the bedroom. Specifically, to where her pants had ended up on the floor. She dug a pack of gum from one of its pockets, something she carried all the time by habit in case she got a drink or a smoke when she was outside the house. Gum helped kill the smell sometimes, if the flavor was strong enough.

"S'okay," she muttered, when Maura came back in, looking concerned. "I'll be okay now. I just don't want you to have puke-breath in your bed. That'd be pretty gross, wouldn't it?"

Maura had to agree, and was grateful that Jane was being considerate enough to try and ameliorate the problem. Jane sat on the floor for a while, chewing and popping the gum, and Maura eventually went back to her bed. Pulling the covers up over herself, she snuggled into her bear, and only hoped that Jane wouldn't fall asleep on the floor.

She was not disappointed. A few minutes later, Jane stood up. She picked up the covers and said, "Knock, knock."

"Yes?"

"Can I still come in, Maura?"

"Of course."

Jane turned and spat her gum out so it landed on her jeans, then slipped into bed next to Maura. "Wow," she whispered. "This is the fanciest, nicest bed I've ever been in. Everything's so soft."

"I like it," Maura said.

"You should. Mmm...I could fall asleep here."

"That's sort of the point of a bed, Jane."

"I _could _fall asleep, but my stomach hurts, and my head hurts something awful, too."

Normally, Maura might have tried suggesting some sort of tonic, but in her slightly tipsy state, instead suggested, "Let me try something." She slipped her hand beneath Jane's sleeveless undershirt and actually gasped. "Oh, my God!"

"What? Which God? Kidney God?"

"Every God!" Maura moaned, her head falling back onto her pillow as she slowly massaged Jane's abdominal area. "You... your... abdominus m—oh... _oh... my God..." _

Maura had not ever felt this overwhelmed, overcome, with arousal in her life. She did not have the presence of mind to aptly name each muscle her fingers splayed over, much less inquire as to how Jane had obtained this spectacular physique. It was all she could do not to go down and trail her lips over the same path her fingers were stroking.

"Feels good," Jane breathed. "Feels really good, Maura. Your magic hand."

"Magic isn't real," Maura whispered. She shifted and pressed her mouth to Jane's temple, a decidedly safer region. Plus, maybe this would help assuage her headache.

Jane sighed, closing her eyes and pressing as fully into Maura's touch as she could. "False."

"What?"

"If magic isn't real," Jane murmured tiredly, "how're _you _real?"

"Simple. I think, therefore..." She left a longer kiss on Jane's forehead, still stroking her stomach. "I am."

Jane inhaled deeply. "You are," she agreed. There was a long pause, during which she moved one of her bare legs between Maura's. Her breath was hot against Maura's neck, and Maura could not for the life of her regulate her breathing. Jane shifted and Maura's nightdress rode up a little bit; she sighed loudly in contentment as she felt the skin of Maura's bared knee against her own.

"You are amazing," she whispered, before drifting into a sleep that was long in coming.

* * *

None of it was a dream.

Having Jane in her arms, their legs intertwined, her lips on Jane's forehead. None of that had been dreamt.

Unfortunately, her alarm clock's shrill ringing was not a dream either: it roused both girls instantly from their sleep, and when Jane realized where she was, she fell out of the bed in a panic. She landed loudly on the floor with a groan, and Maura quickly sat up.

"Jane, are you all right?"

"I've had worse falls," she grunted, getting lazily into a sitting position. "Ugh. Uh... I was just kinda startled, I guess." She blinked and looked around, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. "How did I end up here? In your room?"

Maura felt a little breathless. "You don't remember? You came here last night."

"I did?"

"Yes. You were... you were upset about your parents, and Joey...?"

"Aw. Oh, yeah." Jane took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair.

Her head was pounding, like there was someone inside trying to beat their way out. And now she remembered: going to Frost's, having a couple beers, leaving when he said he had some homework to do. Going and scrounging up some more beer. Anything to avoid going home to the mother who was bitterly upset with her and the father who had finally lashed out. Even drunk, she knew the only person aside from Frost who wouldn't judge her or turn her away was Maura. That beautiful, unreal, brilliant Maura. Jane supposed it was very lucky that Maura's parents hadn't been home. She looked down, saw that she wasn't wearing any pants, and quickly dove for her jeans.

"Aw, geez," she muttered. "I—did I sleep without these on?"

"Yes," Maura said, as, Jane tried hiding by her dresser to put them on.

Jane swore under her breath, buttoning the jeans and trying to force down the vomit that had come creeping up with the action of hopping into each pant leg. "Ugh, I—uh... I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For _what? _ Coming to your house slobbering drunk, and making you give me a place to sleep, and not complaining that I wasn't totally, uh, dressed. Are your parents gonna be upset? I mean, about letting me stay on a school night?"

"Please, they don't care what I do," Maura scoffed. "I doubt they'd even notice if I had gone and spent the night at _your _house."

"I—wait, do my parents know I'm here?"

"They do. I called last night and told them I'd asked you to stay with me because I was alone here."

"And they let me?"

"Well, I think maybe they hoped it would help cool you off a bit," Maura admitted. "And besides, your mother seemed to appreciate that you wanted to help a friend who was in need."

Jane walked back to the bed, sitting down next to Maura. How did she look so lovely, even just after waking up. "Maura? _Are _you in need? Of anything?"

"I'll be all right," she replied bracingly, getting up and walking to her closet.

She had turned to close herself inside, only to realize Jane was right on her heels. Speaking in utmost seriousness, Jane said, "If you ever need anything, you just tell me, all right? I don't care what it is. I'll do it. I—I promise."

There was something about the way Jane said it, and the way Jane looked as she said it, that communicated to Maura she had never made an offer like this before. It told her Jane had always _wanted _to feel this close to someone, but never had. Never had anybody warranted it, never had she wanted to feel so vulnerable as to plainly show what exactly she was feeling for someone else.

It had Jane in a panic, but she had to share it regardless. This wasn't just lusting after Maura's form anymore. It was the sensation of falling more and more for the person she was. Jane was still in the process of figuring out who she wanted to be. All she'd known for certain was that she wanted to avoid the lifestyle her mother had planned out for her. More and more, she wanted to try and become the person she hoped Maura could be proud of—which would start with then apologizing for coming over in such a drunken state.

But she didn't get the chance to say she was sorry, because Maura had reached up and thrown her arms around Jane, hugging her tightly.

It was such a simple, easy gesture to make, yet it conveyed so much.

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing extra hard before letting go. She had to smile. "You pretend to be so hard-boiled, Jane. But you're really soft, aren't you?"

Jane tremblingly returned the smile, and winked. "Only for you."

After Maura had changed (privately) into a school dress, she led Jane back downstairs. Maura was just saying that she'd ask their cook to make something extra for Jane when they walked into the dining room and saw three place settings at the table. Constance was already sitting there, and Desmond was long gone, leaving Maura to conclude that Jane's presence had already been anticipated.

"Good morning," Constance said.

"Mother...?"

"You know, after our symphony last night, your father and I simply couldn't bring ourselves to just come home and fall asleep," Constance chuckled, looking down at the morning paper. "We decided to put on a record and waltz for a while, and after your father had finally had enough and gone to bed, I saw something by the sofa. A pair of, I believe, Chuck Taylor's. They had your initials written on the bottom, Jane."

"Oh. Right."

"I felt confident in assuming you were here if your shoes were, so I took the liberty of having Yvette set a place for you."

"Um, thank you," Jane mumbled, feeling more than a little embarrassed.

Constance looked up from the paper. "Maura, why don't you go check up on Elsa? She ought to have brought the food out by now." As soon as Maura had dutifully gone into the kitchen, Constance said, "Fond of cognac, Jane?"

Jane took a deep breath and stepped closer. "Look, Mrs. Isles, I—I'm sorry I came over. I was really upset about something, and I... I maybe had a little beer before I got here. I didn't take any of your brandy, though."

"The bottle was out by a used shot glass. Did Maura take some?"

"She...may have?"

Constance sighed, folding the paper but not standing up. "Well, I suppose if Maura's going to drink, I'd rather it be in the house. So long as it isn't in excess and isn't forced, I think a little nip can be good for a body now and then."

"You're not mad?" Jane asked disbelievingly.

"It's happened, it's over," Constance said with a shrug. "I am not terribly pleased that you came over while inebriated, as I do not know what effect alcohol has on you personally, and I will ask you not to do it again. However, Maura seems to be fine, in which case I do not see it necessary to inform on you to your parents, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Mrs. Isles, do you... care what Maura does?"

"What a question!"

"I mean—if my mother were in your place, she'd be having a real fit. I'd be in a load of trouble."

"That is the trouble with Americans," Constance said. "Tell them repeatedly not to drink, and they will. Allow them to try it a controlled environment, and the allure will cease to seem so rebellious and enticing. I trust my daughter to know her limits. Prove to me that I can trust you, as well."

Jane felt exceptionally slow. "Trust me to... what?"

"Not to make this behavior a habit. And not to hurt my daughter."

"Mrs. Isles, Maura's my best friend. I don't like seeing my best friend hurt." She took a deep breath, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "I pray to God I won't ever be a source of pain in her life."

Constance carefully looked Jane over. Until now, she hadn't been entirely sure whether Maura's feelings for Jane were returned, but now it seemed fairly clear that they were—at least, on some level. A less discerning eye might have deduced that two infatuated teenagers who spent the night together might have done more than sleep, but everything about their body language communicated that nothing had actually happened. When Maura reentered the dining room, Constance looked at her, and wondered if anything ever _would _happen—if it could, or even should.

"Is everything all right?" Maura asked.

"Yes, it's just fine," Constance replied. "I was just about to ask Jane if she would please sit down."

* * *

**A/N:** So I guess my thing with Constance is that I do believe she loves her daughter, she just never knew how to express it. She never planned on being a parent, and she's never been totally comfortable with the concept of being responsible for a child. She has always been the cool sophistication compared to Angela's heart-on-her-sleeve approach to mothering. With Angela, there's obstinate insistence before the ultimate backing away. I feel like Constance would give kids a chance to learn from their mistakes (so long as nobody was seriously hurt) before flipping out.**  
**


	18. You Don't Have to Be a Baby to Cry

**A/N**: I just wanted to say thanks for the feedback, guys. Reviews are really helpful and I really appreciate the time taken to leave them. This chapter went on a bit longer than I'd realized; I just really love Constance and wanted to put in more about her, I guess...

* * *

Jane hurriedly downed her breakfast at the Isles, explaining she had to get home to change before going to school. Constance was about to offer the lend of their chauffer, but Maura hurriedly piped up, "Would you like me to drive you? It'd be faster than if you tried going by foot—even if _you _do run fairly fast!"

"Well, if it wouldn't be too, uh, time-consuming for you..."

"Don't be silly, I'd love to. Is it all right, mother?"

Constance—who had been carefully watching Jane and Maura throughout breakfast as though they were a cliff-hanger serial—nodded. "I trust you not to dawdle, Maura. I know you'll be back in plenty of time to get yourself prepared for school."

"Yes, _ma mère_. May we be excused?"

"If you are finished eating, then yes."

Maura stood up and quickly went to fetch her purse, but Jane hung back awkwardly for a moment. Constance took a long sip of tea before realizing that Jane was still standing there, clearly on the verge of wanting to say something, but perhaps not knowing where to start. The task couldn't really be left to Constance, who had enough trouble trying to guess what was going on in her own teenage daughter's head—never mind bothering to attempt with others.

"I just wanted to say thanks again," Jane said quickly. "For... you know, not being upset that I stayed, and giving me breakfast and all."

"Of course, Jane," Constance said smoothly, still seated. "I'm the one who should be thanking _you_, really. Maura's never ...well, you know how she is. She tends to keep to herself, and I've never known if that was by choice or not. I'm just happy to see her connecting with somebody."

"I'm...um...you're welcome?"

Jane briefly struggled for some sort of physical gesture she could make to back up the sincerity of her thanks. Handshakes were the norm for her father, but Constance looked like too much of a lady to have her hand grabbed and pumped up and down. Jane could easily visualize the Isles at a dinner party, where the men would shake Desmond's hand and kiss Constance's. The women would probably kiss her on the cheek.

_Wait, what am I doing? Men don't kiss women's hands anymore. Do they? Some of Pop's friends have kissed Ma's cheek, if they're good pals of ours. I guess otherwise they just sort of... __take__ her hand and hold it for a second? How do I do that without seeming strange? Can I just shake her hand? I swear I've never seen Ma shake another woman's hand before. Have I?  
_

As if Jane were actually saying these things out loud, Constance just shrugged and raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of tea. Maura came running back into the room, grabbing Jane by the hand and whisking her towards the front door. A huge smile at the contact came and went quickly across Jane's face, but Constance's sharp eyes didn't miss it. As soon as the girls were gone, she sighed and set her teacup down. Maura's feelings for this girl were unmistakable, and it was becoming doubtful that Jane didn't return them in some way. She sat at the table for a few minutes, trying to think if it was her place to interject or say anything at all. She didn't want to panic Maura, but she also didn't want her struggling through this alone—if it was a struggle at all, if she understood what it was, or wanted to.

Being a parent when she hadn't ever planned on being responsible for a child's well-being was challenging enough. Something like this really threw a wrench in the distant-but-comfortable relationship Constance thought they had developed so far.

The issue wasn't that Maura had clearly deviated from anything Constance might have expected, or even hoped for. It was the feeling—unless she was wildly incorrect—that Maura was headed for a world of hurt if she wasn't careful.

* * *

"Whose idea was it?"

"Hm?"

After a mostly-silent car ride, they had nearly reached the Rizzoli house. "Whose idea was it for me to sleep in your bed? I mean, you guys have got such a huge house... you must have a guest room or something, right?"

"I suppose it was my idea," Maura said. "Technically, I had taken a couple of shots of brandy by then, so I may not have been thinking clearly. I suppose I wanted you nearby in case you were to... I wanted to keep a close eye on you. Just in case."

"Just in case of what?"

"Just in case you had—tried... wandering off in the middle of the night?"

Laughing at Maura's cringing expression, Jane said, "How nuts do you think I am?"

"Are you not the type to lose hold of her senses when she drinks?"

"Hey, clearly I had _some _sense left. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to sweet-talk my way into sleeping with you."

Now she was the one cringing, wishing for once that she would think before speaking. A small silence followed, and Maura finally said, "Jane, sometimes I don't understand you."

"Never mind, it was just a bad joke," Jane said quickly. "I don't even know what I meant!"

"It's not the first time, though," Maura pressed her, though she was wary of pushing too far. "You used to tease me a lot with jokes in that vein."

"Yeah, well I stopped mostly, didn't I?" Jane asked, sounding a little panicked. "I was an ass before—"

"You were a bit of an ass when you were drunk, too."

"—well I'm sorry! I like you now, isn't that enough? Maura," she sighed. "I'm not very good at this whole... _friends_ thing, okay? Never have been. I just don't know why, I just get sort of..."

Sort of what, exactly? Part of the reason she felt her friendship with Emily had disintegrated was because Jane had felt so possessive of their relationship. Emily felt like a different person to her when they were just one-on-one; whenever Debbie and Kate tagged along, she changed, and not for the better. Debbie and Kate had never liked Jane, had never bothered to understand her—had thought Emily could do better. Jane had been fiercely protective of their friendship, and had never hid her strong negative feelings towards Debbie and Kate.

_"I wish you two would lay off Jane; she's all right."_

_ "Em, are you nuts? If you're going to spend so much time with __one__ person, it should be your fella! All this not-dating of yours? It's not healthy."_

_ "None of the guys go for me."_

Jane still scowled thinking about it. How Kate and Debbie had happily volunteered to go shopping with Emily for a good bra, how they made her over, and suddenly Emily was getting attention from everybody, especially the boys. As far as the male population of their school went, the sun rose and fell with Emily. Jane was in eternal darkness. And there she had mostly remained, until...

_But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. _

The line flew through her head as she glanced at Maura, whose hair—backlit by the morning sun—was tinted with gold. Jane was so caught up in staring that she hadn't even noticed that they were now parked in the Rizzoli's driveway.

"What is it?" Maura asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

"I'm—sorry," Jane finally got out. "I'm sorry for how I've acted. You don't deserve to be treated the way I've treated you, and I'm really, really sorry."

"Thank you for apologizing," Maura said quietly. Jane got the distinct impression that Maura was not used to people telling her they were sorry, but she was accustomed to getting teased. Maura nodded at the front door. "Would you like me to walk up with you? Maybe smooth things over with your mother?"

Jane's heart jumped a bit at the sweet sincerity of the offer, and her smile certainly seemed to indicate she would more than like it. But her expression turned a little rueful and she said, "That's really nice of you, Maura, but I think I'd better take this on myself. I don't wanna hide behind you, even from my own mother."

"I wish you luck, then," Maura said.

"Thanks, I'm gonna need all of it I can get," Jane muttered, starting to get out of the car. "I'll see you in school, unless Ma bites my head off the second I get in."

As it transpired, Angela was actually much more calm than Jane had been anticipating. She was in the kitchen when Jane walked in, looking extremely tired as she stood by the sink, cleaning Frankie and Tommy's breakfast dishes. When Jane cleared her throat to announce her presence, Angela looked over, and Jane could sense the disapproval of her tangled hair and messy clothes. Angela silently dried her hands, walked over to Jane, and pulled her into a hug.

Jane was too shocked by this course of action to so much as flinch, much less return the embrace right away. She only did when it became clear that Angela had no intention of letting go soon.

"I'm sorry, Janie," she said, tears evident in her voice. "I'm sorry."

"You're...?"

"I pray every day for God to give me strength, do you know that? Every night and every day I ask for it. When I die, Jane, all I want to know is that I did the best I could for my kids. For my children. You and your brothers are my life, and I love you. I don't want to fail you."

"Ma..."

"Jane Clementine, you listen to me," Angela whispered, holding Jane tighter. "You're my daughter, and I love you. I couldn't hardly sleep a wink all night without you here, because I know part of the reason you stayed away is because of how upset we were."

"No, that wasn't it," Jane mumbled. "Didn't Maura tell you when she called? She was all alone last night, and I wanted to make sure she was... y'know, okay. I think she was maybe kinda scared of being alone."

Angela had to chuckle a little as she pulled away, still gripping Jane's arms tightly. "I know how much you hate slumber parties, Jane. You were mad at us, that's why you stayed away."

"Maura's different, Ma," Jane said uncomfortably. "She's different."

Disregarding the uncharacteristic tenderness in her daughter's voice, Angela said, "The point is this, Jane. You and I need to communicate better. _I _need to communicate better. Everything I do, all the criticisms and 'nit-picking' I do, it's all because I love you, because I want you to be _your best self_."

"Well what if this is it?" Jane asked. "What if this is as good as I'm gonna be, Ma? What if this is what you get?"

But Angela was just smiling and shaking her head. "Jane, don't sell yourself short. You have a lot of potential, you know that? Your father and I both see it in you. I see you and I think, yes sir, there's a man out there who's going to thank his lucky stars when he finds you. You've got a strong will, but you know what, so did I around your age! And that'll make you a fierce mother! I know how protective you are of Tommy and Frankie, Jane, even if you give them a hard time now and then. Someday, a man's going to see that, and he's going to see what a good mother you would make. And you're smart, and you're beautiful when you want to be, and you're loyal to boot."

Angela hoped the tears forming in Jane's eyes were good ones, that she was as moved by this speech as Angela had prayed she would be.

In reality, Jane was overcome with remorse. Melancholy. She saw the future she'd always hoped and dreamed up for herself—free, independent, wild—dripping away with each of Angela's words about her own hopes and dreams. In Angela's mind, the image she described was something beautiful to be cherished. The goals were noble ones and necessary.

Last night, when her ever-indulgent father had struck her, Jane's fantasy of her future had crumbled. The life that Angela described was the one that had been assigned her from her first instant on this earth, and no matter how hard she kicked and screamed, she could not see a feasible way of escaping it in the adult world without becoming a total hermit.

What almost made it worse was knowing deep down that her mother _did _love her. True, part of her concern about Jane's boyish habits came from a fear of what the neighbors would say—but it also came from the maternal desire that her daughter grow up to be the best woman she could. Unfortunately, that term didn't seem to leave a lot of wiggle room.

"Honey, don't you see?" Angela asked, directing Jane's chin so Jane would look at her. "You're growing up. You're graduating this year. Your father and I just want to make sure that you'll be taken care of. Joey's... well, he's a special guy. Most boys your age don't seem to understand you, but he respected you."

"Ma, I don't want t... I don't hate Joey," Jane said, having to fight to get each individual word out. "And I hope we can still be friends once he stops being mad at me. I just wasn't in love with him, y'know? I tried for a while because he wanted it so bad, and I think everybody—you and Pop—wanted it so bad, but I didn't. And I don't wanna go steady with a guy unless I really... y'know, feel it. Otherwise, I'm just dragging him along, and wouldn't that be dishonest?"

Angela's smile had turned proud. "You're a good girl, Jane. If you didn't try so hard to rebel all the time, I think you'd see that—on the inside, you wanna be good, and you _are _good. That's a very grown-up realization you came to, I think. Because believe me, if you aren't invested in the relationship, the man's going to feel it, and he'll go looking elsewhere, and you're both going to wind up hurt. I just wish you hadn't felt like you had to lie about it. You know I don't like being lied to."

"I'm sorry, Ma," Jane said, averting her gaze. "I just didn't wanna let you guys down."

Just then, Tommy came running into the kitchen to grab an apple. "Jane! C'mon, we gotta leave, or we'll be late for school!"

Giving Tommy an incredulous look, Jane gestured to her t-shirt and jeans. "I gotta change!"

"Hurry up and change into your school clothes, Jane, I'll give you a ride," Angela told her.

Later driving Jane to school, Angela felt like they had really had a breakthrough that morning. She couldn't remember having a true one-on-one conversation with Jane that had lasted longer than half a minute, and certainly not one where Jane had really seemed to open up. For her part, Jane just hoped the move would convince Angela to trust her a bit more, and maybe get her off her back.

Apparently, she didn't know her mother very well.

Once seeing Jane off, Angela returned home, called Mrs. Fairfield, and asked which house on their street belonged to the Isles. She wanted to drop by and thank Maura's mother for allowing Jane to stay the night, assuming that Maura would have called her parents wherever they'd been staying to ask permission. Also, she couldn't help feeling curious about the family of the person who Tommy was so enraptured with, yet whose attention Jane seemed to be monopolizing. Dressed to impress, Angela drove over to the nicer side of town, a little nervous about what to expect.

She was the first person to just come up and knock on the Isles' door.

Constance never invited people over, and if Maura did (to work on projects), she would always accompany them there. Desmond's associates called first, and the house staff could thus be informed ahead of time that they were expecting company.

Yvette didn't quite know what to make of it when the doorbell rang just after nine o'clock in the morning.

"Hello, may I help you?" she asked a little unsurely, not recognizing the woman on the porch.

Angela stood on her toes, looking into the house, as if expecting to see someone in the hallway. "Yes, is Mrs. Isles here?"

"She is working at the moment. She does not wish to be disturbed."

"But she _is _here, then?"

"_Oui, _but..."

"Would you please tell her that Jane Rizzoli's mother would like to see her? I won't hardly be here a minute. I'd just really like to speak with her."

Angela took a step into the house, her presumptuousness startling Yvette. "Please, wait here, _madame_!" she said. "I will go ask Mrs. Isles if she can spare 'a minute.'" Hoping it was safe to leave Angela in the foyer, Yvette quickly scaled the stairs that led to Constance's studio. She knew she was only supposed to interrupt in case of emergency, but she got the (accurate) feeling that Angela was the type who wouldn't give up without getting what she wanted. Hesitantly, she knocked on the studio door. "Mrs. Isles?"

"Is something the matter?" Constance asked through the door.

"There is a Mrs. Rizzoli here to see you."

Yvette was surprised by how swiftly Constance opened the door. "Jane's mother?"

"That is what she said, _oui_."

Reaching for a hand cloth, Constance said, "Tell her I'll be right down."

A minute or so later, Angela saw Constance Isles for the first time, and the woman wasn't quite what she expected. Granted, it had been enough of a surprise to hear she'd been working, but Angela had at least expected a woman who would be as well-dressed and sophisticated as Maura.

Constance came downstairs with her hair in a scraggly bun, dressed in a pair of jeans and one of her husband's formal white shirts. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and the pants at three-quarter length, and all of it was splattered with different shades of blue paint. She wore no jewelry and very little makeup, yet once Angela got over the initial shock of her extremely casual wear, she saw that Constance was the most striking creature she had ever seen. Her cheekbones looked even sharper than Jane's, and her eyes were startlingly, brightly blue.

"Well, this is indeed a pleasant surprise!" Constance said, extending a hand for Angela to shake. "Constance Isles."

"Angela Rizzoli," came the reply, as Angela awkwardly shook Constance's paint-caked hand.

Having noted the slightly-disapproving look on Angela's face, Constance laughed, "You'll have to pardon my appearance. I'm in the middle of a project at the moment, and it is literally beginning to consume me."

"You're not renovating, are you?"

"Oh, heavens, no! I'm an artist. My studio is upstairs."

Angela brightened considerably. "Oh, an artist? How fine!"

"My realm of expertise really is in sculpture, but I figured I'd try my hand at a new medium, living in a new place," Constance said with a shrug. "There is definitely something to be said for the power of painting."

"Oh, I agree! I take a painting class every Wednesday at the rec center! It's taught by Carla Tolucci—do you know her?"

The woman whose tacky poster designs nearly made Constance vomit onto the sidewalk the first time she saw one? Yes, she knew of her.

"I'm afraid we haven't had the pleasure of meeting face-to-face."

"Well, I'll have to introduce you sometime!"

Just smiling and nodding, Constance quickly changed the subject. "Angela, can I get you something to drink? I suppose it's too early in the day for alcohol, but tea? Coffee?"

"Thank you, no, but it's sure nice of you to offer even though you didn't know I was coming. Sorry to just barge in on you like this, but I'll only be a minute."

"You'll stay as long as you need to," Constance said, leading the way to the sitting room so they weren't just standing around by the stairs. "I suppose you're here because you know Jane spent the night."

"Mostly that, yes. But I admit, I was also curious just to meet Maura's mother," Angela admitted, sitting on the other end of the couch that Constance was on. "You know, I bet I could've picked you right out of a crowd if I had to. You and Maura look so much alike!"

Scratching her head, Constance chuckled. "Considering that Maura is adopted, it's surprising how much we hear that."

"Maura's adopted?!"

"Yes."

"I never would have guessed! Was she orphaned by the war?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," Constance murmured. "No, she was simply ...in need of parents, and... the situation was such that my husband and I were in a position to take her in."

"Have you any other children?"

"No, Maura is all we have."

"That must be nice, being able to focus all your attention on just one child," Angela laughed. "I always feel as though I'm being pulled in three different directions, and never know where I'll end up! But it also seems like a real shame that you haven't got any more kids—seeing what a special girl Maura turned out to be, I'm sure we'd all be happy to have more products of your happy home around!"

Constance was a little taken aback by Angela's willingness to simply speak her mind (a trait she somewhat hypocritically criticized in Jane). But she found it refreshing, and didn't take offense.

"I think Maura's been very helpful with Jane," Angela went on. "And I don't just mean with her studies, although she's been a real boost there! It's sweet, you know? Almost like Jane worships the ground that girl walks on."

"Well, I can assure you the feeling is mutual," Constance said bracingly. "Maura's never had an easy time of making friends."

"Neither has Jane! She's my girl and I love her, but she's got a bit of a temper most other girls don't have patience for. I never know what she's going to do more than half the time! I just wanted to thank you for letting her stay here last night."

"It wasn't any trouble, I assure you. I'm glad Maura had someone to be with her. I'd certainly gotten curious about your daughter, Angela. Maura comes home and hardly speaks about anyone else."

"Is that a fact!" Angela laughed. "Well, I'm sure she'll settle on a fella soon, and that'll take the focus off Janie a bit."

"A fella? Oh, you mean a boy."

"Yes! From what I understand, boys just about trip over themselves trying to get her attention at school. That's coming from my son Tommy, of course—he's got a little crush on her, but can you blame him? Your daughter is gorgeous!"

"Thank you, I suppose," Constance said. "It seems strange to say that and take credit for her appearance, when I didn't even have a hand in creating her."

"But you've had a hand in shaping the ladylike, polite creature that she is. I hope some of her rubs off on Jane, Constance. She's everything I think a woman would hope her daughter would be!"

Angela was an open book, and it was becoming increasingly clear to Constance that the woman had no idea what sort of feelings were passing between their daughters. Even more problematic was that she clearly had a set plan for Jane, a set idea for what she should be, and there was no way in heaven or hell that Jane had the same goals for herself. Whether she felt attracted to Maura or not, the relationship with her mother was bound to be troublesome.

"I had never planned on having children," Constance said quietly. "Maura came into our lives very quickly, and I'm afraid we were slow to adjust our lifestyles to her. So slow, in fact, that I don't believe we ever fully did, in a way. I have never fretted over what sort of girl I wanted Maura to be. I suppose I just hoped that if Desmond and I took care of her temporally, and that she knew she could depend on us for her needs, that she would be a decent person. And I believe she is. She's a dear. I don't know that I feel comfortable taking credit for _that_, either. I have the feeling that Maura would be as she is, no matter whose family she had wound up joining."

"Oh, come on," Angela said with a small smile. "Every mother has dreams for her children, Constance! Even the ones she didn't plan on having." She leaned forward to whisper, "Tommy was a little surprise. But his father and I still have our idea of what we'd like him to be."

"I have no idea what I would like Maura to be," Constance said blankly. "Kind? Yes. Generous? Certainly. Educated? Of course. But beyond that, I have no set plans for her. She's an intelligent, capable girl. She will be and do what she wants, and so long as she isn't harming anyone else, I can't see the problem in that."

Angela's countenance showed unabashed astonishment at this line of thinking, and she was at a loss for a proper response. There was a certain air that Constance exuded, a regal sort of confidence, that Angela had never encountered in another woman before. She was entirely at ease, and spoke without defensiveness.

"If I may ask," Angela said slowly, "what does your husband do?"

"He's a professor of philosophy at BCU."

"Philosophy. How interesting."

"He'd be inclined to agree with you on that."

A short silence passed, and then Angela stood up abruptly. "Well! I think I've taken up enough of your time, Mrs. Isles, but I should probably go now. Errands to run, things to do! Thank you so much for, uh, halting your creative process to talk to me for a while."

"It was a pleasure, truly. I hope we'll be seeing more of Jane, and of you as well—I'm sure my husband would love to meet yours."

Angela gave a non-committal nod on her way out the door, and Constance just folded her arms and shook her head as she watched the woman drive away. Unfortunately, this was only to be the first uncomfortable conversation of her day.

The second came at dinner, when Desmond had come home with an alarming story that he was sure would crop up in the evening paper.

"It's a disgrace," he said. "An absolute disgrace!"

When he didn't elaborate right away, Constance asked, "Shall I guess, or are you going to tell us?"

"Yes, father, what is it?"

"You know I've mentioned Lyle Duncan to you?" he asked Constance, naming a colleague.

"He teaches studio art at the university, yes?"

"Yes," Desmond said stiffly, spearing a piece of lettuce as though it had done him a great personal wrong. "He is being let go."

"Whatever for?"

"He has been seeing a student. A _male_ student."

Constance glanced over at Maura when the girl dropped her fork. "Oh, my," Maura said, quickly recovering. "H-how did they find out?"

"I don't know. Somebody saw them somewhere, and confronted Duncan about it at the university. Hopefully he _resigned_, rather than wait to be formally let go, and hopefully he's also turning himself in as we speak. Makes me sick," he muttered darkly.

"Well, I can see how it might be a difficult environment," Constance said. "All these young people around, and they're all adults. They have intellectual and artistic heroes all about them—is it really a wonder?"

"Constance, did you hear what I said?" Desmond asked. "The student was a _man_. Still going to stick up for your perverted friends?"

"Excuse me?" Constance asked calmly.

"You think this is the first time something like this has happened? Men like Duncan, they're not right in the head! They go after young, unsuspecting men and—and—do things like this! Trap them, abuse them! How can you turn a blind eye to behavior like that?"

"How can you throw around blanket statements like that?" Constance shot back. "You know my friends, Desmond, and you know they would _never_ do something like—"

"Well of course that's what they'd _tell_ you! It's shameful enough being what they are, but they figure so long as they can at least pretend they believe in monogamy or age of consent, they can be tolerated by people as liberal as you."

"Are you hearing yourself?"

"Constance, these are people who choose to defy everything science knows about nature. About what is _right_."

_"Everything_ science knows? Didn't you read those studies by Kinsey?"

"Kinsey!" Desmond laughed. "That man's a glorified pervert, and nothing more. You're smart, Constance, you must know that!"

"Please," Maura cut in, her voice little more than a breath. Constance's heart fell at the look of utter devastation on her daughter's face. Maura closed her eyes and took a breath to steady herself before looking over at her father. "Please, can we change the subject? This hardly seems like savory dinner conversation."

Their family had never really adhered to social expectations of what savory table talk _would _be, but Desmond was glad to accommodate Maura in this case.

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry, Maura, you shouldn't have to hear things like this."

"No, you shouldn't," Constance agreed darkly, referring to Desmond's attitude and response.

"Then on to happier, _healthier_ matters," Desmond suggested. "I had a good long talk with Warren Fairfield today, Maura. I'm sure you've heard his boys—not to mention your mother—talk about the Fine Arts event they're sponsoring, and Garrett needs a date. I told him you'd be happy to go."

"Desmond, you didn't," Constance sighed.

"What?" he asked innocently. "They're friends, aren't they? Garrett was planning to ask you sometime this week," he said to Maura. "I'm sorry if I spoiled the surprise, honey, I just wanted to perk you up a little bit!"

"To be honest, I hadn't planned on going," Maura said.

"Don't you want to support the gallery?" Constance asked.

"Well of course I do, but I... I'd made plans with Jane for the weekend. We were going to go the movies. A drive-in."

"Oh, you can do that any time!" Desmond said, waving his hand. "Go on Sunday!"

"Jane's not allowed to see pictures on Sundays."

"Friday, then. I'm sure she'll understand if you tell her this event is for a good cause."

A good cause. Going on a date with Garrett. "Yes," Maura muttered. "I'm sure she'll be just fine."

Desmond nodded happily, but Constance was fairly confident she had just heard Maura's first use of sarcasm.


	19. In the Still of the Night

A/N: So I wound up ending this chapter sooner than I'd planned, because I got caught up in Constance feels. The good news is that now I'll be able to explore the subject this chapter ended with in greater detail for the next chapter. Also, that first kiss will be coming sooner than I'd expected (still not for a few chapters, though). And just a heads-up, it's going to be a bit angsty at first (see the second genre for this story).**  
**

* * *

That night led to the second time in so many weeks that Constance found herself standing outside Maura's bedroom.

She felt horrible for having let Desmond carry on with his tirade at dinner, saying such scathing things not only about his former colleague but about Constance's harmless friends—men who happened to enjoy the intimate company of other men. Men she had told her young daughter were perfectly acceptable people to be friends with. The poor girl had to be terribly confused and frightened at finally hearing her father's full opinion on the issue, and Constance wanted to reach out to her.

Maura had never seemed to need protection before.

_What can I say? 'Dear, I couldn't help noticing you seemed very upset during your father's tirade at the dinner table. Incidentally, I've been wondering if you happen to find yourself attracted to your friend Jane. Because I am not blind and I am not ignorant and you are head-over-heels for that girl. You can tell me that, if you want to. I won't put you away somewhere. I won't love you any less._

This was hard enough when Constance realized she could not authoritatively say she had ever spoken those three words to her daughter: _I love you_.

The mere thought of that made her slump against the wall, her head starting to ache. Surely she must have said it to Maura at some point during her fifteen years of life? Yes; yes she had. Whenever she was leaving for a trip, Maura would say, "I love you," and she would reply, "Love you too, darling." And that was it. Always responding, never initiating. That had to make a difference.

Heaven help her, she was already on the verge of tears. This was why she had never wanted to be a mother—she knew she'd be no good at it. Who was she to tell someone else how to live her life? How did you pick the right words to make sure you were comforting your child, really helping her, not just throwing empty phrases? How was it that some women seemed so effortlessly affectionate, and Constance struggled to give Maura anything more than a sideways, one-armed hug? Could that sort of behavior be cultivated?

And then she heard it, a short sob from the other side of Maura's door.

Panic mode set in.

If Maura wanted to cry on her own, she would be honest (as always) and say so. But if she wanted someone to be with her, she didn't have a lot of options at the moment and would have to take what she could get.

Maura jumped when there was a knock on her door. "Y-yes?" she asked, wiping quickly at her eyes.

"Maura, it's me."

Surprised at hearing her mother's voice, Maura got up off of Jane's bear, clearing her throat and trying to rid her face of any tear streaks. Knowing her eyes would still be read, Maura opened her door anyway, hoping her mother would choose not comment.

"I." When Constance's brow furrowed in confusion, Maura explained, "You should present yourself as _I_, not _me._ It's grammatically correct."

Smiling lightly at one of Maura's oldest quirks, Constance said, "My mistake. It is _I_, your mother."

"Come on," Maura sniffed, opening the door a little wider.

There was definitely a sense of discomfort, here; a shared knowledge that Constance was rarely in this room and that tonight in particular it was awkward, due to Maura's emotion. They were treading into unfamiliar waters with this territory, speaking mother-to-daughter, not just person-to-person.

"Maura," Constance said softly.

She sniffed again. "What? Yes?"

"I can't help noticing you're upset. And you seemed it at dinner, as well."

Maura's heart had been crumbling since her father's diatribe at the table, and the concern that her mother had put the pieces together practically jump-started a heart attack.

"I'm—it's ...I can handle it on my own, thank you," Maura said, forcing herself to believe those words.

"Maura, if I may... I don't believe there is much of anything that _you_, gifted and independent as you are, could _not_ handle," Constance said, choosing her words carefully. "But that does not mean you have to take them on alone."

Maura's eyes darted around the room briefly before returning to her mother's patient, yet nervous, face. "I don't..."

"You and I, we don't talk much, do we? I take the blame for that," Constance said softly, sitting on the edge of Maura's bed. Maura eventually sat next to her. "You probably don't remember much about my mother, do you?" Considering the woman had passed away when Maura was four, Constance didn't blame her much for shaking her head. "She, uh... we did not get on well when I was your age. I was not as docile as your aunts. The harder I pushed for my independence, the harder she fought to control me, thinking she was serving me well. It was awful, and I hated her for it for some time. I vowed that if I ever had children, I would never treat them that way. I would not try to sculpt them in my own image. I would let them... learn the consequences of their own actions, and be their own people.

"I suppose what I've been struggling to reconcile is that—I want you to be your own person, Maura, and you are," Constance said, her voice starting to thicken with unshed tears. She cleared her throat, managing to retain them. "But still, I have been remiss. I'm not sure whether my influence would do much good in the first place, but I want ...I want you to feel as though you may speak freely to me, Maura."

"I already feel that way," Maura said, brushing back new tears. "You and father speak so candidly about every subject under the sun. A lot of parents don't act that way around their kids."

"Dear, that isn't exactly what I mean. If there's anything you ever find yourself wishing you could talk about with someone ...you can tell me."

Maura took a shuddering breath, and her next words were so quiet that Constance almost missed them: "I can?"

Constance swallowed a lump in her throat. She brushed some of Maura's hair over her shoulder, resting her hand on her neck, thumb brushing her cheek to ground herself. "You are my daughter, Maura. And I love you, very, _very _much."

A small sob burst out of Maura as she leaned forward, collapsing into her mother's arms. The move finally got some of Constance's tears to fall, and she held Maura close to her, letting her cry it out. Panic mode was starting to return as she started to worry that _if _Maura were to confide her deepest secret to her, she would not be able to say whatever it was Maura needed to hear.

"I love you, mother," she wept, hugging Constance tighter than she ever had before.

Constance left a short kiss on top of Maura's head. "I love you, Maura, I do. And I am proud of everything you are, everything you have accomplished. _Very _proud. I am proud to be your mother, and I want you to know that. I understand perhaps it isn't 'in' for girls your age to tell their mothers everything, but if you ever wish to discuss anything with me, I hope you will. I want you to know you can."

Maura nodded again, taking deep breaths, trying to pull away. But she couldn't bring herself to, not when her mother had suddenly been so willing to embrace her, hold her, as like this. Like it was natural.

"My dear, it pains me seeing you like this," Constance admitted. "Where's my sweet, happy girl? What's happened?" It wouldn't be fair to jump directly into it, what she suspected, from her end. It had to come from Maura, when she was ready. If prompting wasn't going to help at this stage, Constance wasn't going to push her too hard. Laying the groundwork would, she hoped, be a helpful first step. She tried to joke: "This can't all be about that date your father arranged with Garrett Fairfield, can it?"

"Oh, gosh," Maura groaned, finally shifting free of her mother. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"I can speak to your father, if you like. It wasn't very sporting of him to arrange this without discussing it with you."

"That's all right, mother, really. I'm sure Garrett will ask me himself tomorrow, and I'll go with him. I want to do my part to support the gallery, and this event is all for it, so..."

Constance was rubbing Maura's arm, smiling ruefully. "You're sure you'll be all right? There's nothing you'd like to tell me?"

Maura's lips were pressed tightly together, holding back the words.

Admittedly, she was torn. Part of her felt—hoped—that her mother might be understanding, might tell her it was all right, might not look at her like she was a crime against nature. After all, some of her good friends back in Paris had been gay men.

But in the back of her mind, Maura thought of an offhand remark Jane had made a while back about why she kept her friendship with Frost a secret. Her father, though he'd had many positive things to say about some black airmen he'd met in the war, still used qualifiers: pretty smart, pretty good, pretty on-target "for a colored man." When he'd heard Frankie had started buddying up to a black boy in town, he'd made a point of telling Frankie the boy wasn't allowed in their house and that Frankie should try ending contact altogether. Maybe her mother would feel the same way. People like that are all right, perhaps, but don't let one in my house.

She considered the wording of the question, and how she could honestly reply. _No, I would not __like__ to tell you that your only child is experiencing homosexual urges_. Eventually she just shook her head, and Constance nodded to herself. She had posed the query that way on purpose, giving Maura an out if she wanted it, and there it was.

"Would you promise me one thing, then?"

"I'll try."

"Keep in mind what I had forgotten: it is not childish to ask your family for help."

Maura nodded, and shortly afterwards, Constance bade her goodnight and left. Maura switched off the lamp and curled back into bed, where she partially used Jane's bear as a pillow. A small bit of its "fur" on its cheek had become matted, dried evidence of Maura's tears. Thus part of the perfectly smooth, soft exterior of her main comforting object had become stiff.

She did not shed any more tears, but anxiety continued to gnaw at her, keeping her up most of the night as she worried about how much her mother had guessed, or what else might have prompted her sudden burst of maternal nature that night. Torn between wanting so badly to confide in her, but terrified of being wrong about her mother knowing, and completely throwing her off guard and upsetting her. Terrified of just saying the words out loud.

Words had never frightened her before. Not until she'd met Jane Rizzoli.

* * *

When Maura met Jane the next day to help her prepare for her next biology exam, she had planned on waiting until after the session to bring up her date with Garrett. Jane, however, keenly observed right away that something seemed a bit off. Maura's smile wasn't as bright or natural as usual, and it definitely didn't meet her eyes. Jane frowned thoughtfully as Maura brushed some pencil shavings off her desk and sat down.

"What's wrong?"

"...what makes you think something is wrong?"

Jane snorted, knowing Maura was caught—she couldn't lie. "Something is very clearly bothering you."

"How do you figure?"

"You just look down about something, that's all. Doesn't take a world-class detective to see that. C'mon, you can tell me! What, is it Debbie or Kate or someone? Somebody been being a jerk to you? You'd tell me if they were, right? Because you know I'd knock their lights out if anyone hurt you."

Strangely elated by the power of the vow, Maura just laughed and said, "It's nothing like that. I've just—I may have to reschedule our weekend plans."

"Aw, shucks!" Jane chuckled. "I shoulda known _Teenagers from Outer Space _wouldn't be your first pick of weekend entertainment."

"Oh, I'd still love to go with you," Maura assured her, delicately placing her hand on Jane's arm. "It's just that I can't go on Saturday. Are you free Friday?"

"Yeah, sur—aw, no," Jane mumbled. "My aunt and my cousins are coming tomorrow, and Friday's gonna be their last night. Ma would just about flay me alive if I tried getting out."

"Oh? Where they from?"

"New York. Kinda close, but kinda far, y'know?"

Maura just shrugged.

"So how come you can't do Saturday anymore?"

"Well... I... Garrett Fairfield asked me out, sort of."

"Sort of?"

"We've—his and my parents are both attending an event this Saturday. Well actually, his parents organized it, and so of course he needed a date. And my father mentioned that I was available, I suppose, and Garrett just officially asked me this morning."

"And you didn't tell him you already had a date with me?" Jane teased her.

Maura's eyes went wide, and she gripped Jane's arm a little tighter. "Oh, Jane! I'm _so _sorry—I only said yes because I knew it was an event that was important to my parents, especially my mother, and she and I've been getting closer lately and I just want her to feel like things that are important to her are important to me, and ...I also feel that attending this thing with Garrett would please my father, and I want him to be happy with me, s-so..."

"Maura, it's fine, relax," Jane laughed, though her insides felt like they were being shredded with jealousy and disappointment. "I get it. S'okay."

"I just don't want you to think I'm like Emily," Maura said. "I'm not blowing you off for a guy."

"Mmm...kinda seems that way, though. Technically."

"But I'm not going to leave you," Maura insisted earnestly. "This is a one-time deal. I promise I'll go see _Teenagers From Outer Space _with you next weekend, if it's still at the drive-in."

Jane folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. "You promise, huh?"

"I swear."

She couldn't let her off this easy. "Tell me I'm your number one."

Maura rolled her eyes, but at least she finally smiled. "You're my number one."

"Tell me you'll do everything in your power to make it up to me."

"I'll do everything in my power to make it up to you."

"Mm-hm! Now tell me you love me."

"I love you, Jane."

The way she'd said it finally made Jane turn to look at her. Maura's expression was as soft and emotive as her words had been, unshielded in their sentimentality and tenderness.

And there was that feeling again, jolting through Jane like a lightning bolt from her stomach to her brain, where every stop in between might explode. Maura was the first person who had ever made her feel simultaneously so excited and so nervous. _Damn it _she'd never actually been jealous of her brothers until now: if she were a boy, she could swoop down and tell Maura to forget about Garrett Fairfield—could kiss her until Maura was so dizzy she couldn't remember her own name, much less Pretty Boy Fairfield's.

But that look Maura was giving her. How her hand was still on Jane's arm. _Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe she wants me to kiss her anyway_.

For once, Jane bowed to fear.

"Ha," she snorted, tugging her arm away from Maura and staring at her desk. "You're a funny kid." Her knees knocked together under the dress she hated.

"Yes," Maura sighed. "I suppose I am."

"Cute," Jane assured her. "But funny."

"I hear the boys really go for that kind of behavior," Maura said sarcastically, and Jane smirked at the humor. "Speaking of which, I heard that you and Joey broke up?"

Jane rolled her eyes, restlessly flipping the pages of her textbook. "Yeah, you're just bein' polite. Way he's telling it around school, he _dumped_ me." She shrugged. "I don't care, let him tell it how he wants."

"What happened?"

"I dunno, I just was sick of it all. Pretending I liked him when I didn't."

"You didn't like him?" Maura asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Nah, I mean I _like _him, y'know, as a guy. He's not so bad. I just didn't like being his girl."

"You could've fooled me," Maura sighed. "When I first got here, you always made such a show of making out with him in front of me."

"That wasn't for _you_," Jane lied. "Why, did you see something you liked?"

"Don't be crass."

"Excuse me? You're the one who was peeping on me!"

"For heaven's sake, just forget about it!" Maura said, actually waving her hand at Jane.

"Wait, maybe I can help you," Jane said, reaching out and taking hold of Maura's hand. "You've never dated an American guy before, right?"

"Right..."

"Well then, it's a whole different ball game! You need some tips!"

"Such as?"

"I can't tell you now, Maura! You're supposed to be teaching me biology!"

"That's never stopped you from going off-topic before!" Maura balked.

"Listen, are you free tonight?"

"No, I'm going to the ballet with my father."

"Of course you are. What about tom—what about Thursday night?"

"Yes, I suppose..." Maura said slowly, not sure why this conversation had to be had in the evening.

"Great! Can I pick you up around 9:00?"

It was actually 9:13 by Maura's watch when Jane finally pulled up to her house on Thursday. Seeing that Maura was clearly ruffled by her tardiness, Jane just got out of the car with her customary smirk in place.

"Tip number one: expect an American boy to be late," she said before Maura could open her mouth to lecture her. They started walking back to the car. "Not so late as to be fashionable, but late enough to really make you wonder if he's about to stand you up. Now. To atone for his lateness, he'll probably attempt something really smooth and chivalrous." To demonstrate, she opened Maura's car door for her before getting in herself.

"I'm not sure I like this boy so far," Maura pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure a class act like Fairfield will treat you nicer," Jane muttered, starting the car up again.

The reason she'd wanted to wait until evening to take Maura out had been that she was waiting for the right atmosphere. She drove up Maura's street, away from the direction of her own home, climbing towards a part of town that Maura hadn't explored yet. The road started to wind a bit, and Jane grinned when she stole a glance at Maura and saw the curiosity on her face. Ultimately they wound up on the crest of a tall hill, where Jane finally parked and Maura gasped at the view. Boston was all lit up beneath them, and a blanket of stars provided shelter from above.

"Oh, how gorgeous," Maura whispered, getting out of the car. Jane followed suit. "What is this place?"

"It's the place adjacent to Make-Out Point," Jane chuckled, hands in her pockets as she nodded to her left. Squinting, Maura looked over and could just barely see the outlines of several cars in the wooded hill next over. "Yup," Jane said, jumping onto the hood of the car. "That's where all the cute couples go to go ahead and be couple-y."

Maura's tone sounded a little reverent now. "Oh. Did you and Joey ever go there?"

Jane snorted a laugh, stretching out and putting her hands behind her head. "Yeah, we went a couple times. Said he wanted to see who could make their car windows fog up faster; me and him, or his brother and his girl." She patted the spot on the hood next to her. "Come on up here, Maura. I cleaned it before I came to get you—that's why I was late."

It was easy enough for Jane, in a t-shirt and jeans, to just hop up on top of the car. Maura struggled a little in her dress, trying to make sure it didn't hike up too much as she clambered onto the hood. Jane barely maintained a snigger as Maura finally sidled up to her, lying uncomfortably on her back as well.

"I think someone just fulfilled her P.E. requirement for the week!"

"Shut up."

"Oh-ho! Did Maura Isles just say 'shut up'?"

"She may have."

"Well, I'll be. Fortunately for you, some guys are into that."

"Into what, girls using salty language?"

"Yes. Joey liked it when I'd use it."

Jane didn't elaborate, but that didn't stop Maura from picturing Jane pressed against a wall somewhere, using unapologetically filthy language as someone pounded into her. She bit her lip and was merely glad that both of them were looking upwards, that the view of the stars was keeping Jane from fully noticing her.

"So your parents are gonna be at this thing tomorrow?" Jane asked abruptly.

"Yes."

"Is Garrett gonna maybe take you someplace afterwards?"

"It's unlikely. There's dinner and a dance, and it's not scheduled to end until 11:00, which is Garrett's curfew. Considering his family will be there, it would be difficult for him to extricate him and myself without anyone noticing."

"Hey, so um... I guess it'd be too late for, uh... is there any way I could go, or do I gotta be a Rockefeller?"

"Anyone is welcome to attend galas like this! Only... well, a spot at the table farthest away from the band is $500."

"Five hundred bucks?!" Jane yelped. "Geez! How do people justify spending that kind of dough on dinner and a dance?"

"It's a benefit for the BFAC gallery!" Maura chided her. "Considerate it, Jane. Art is one of the finite qualities that distinguishes the human race from other animals."

"Yeah, well, y'know what? Animals also don't feel the need to kiss up to other animals," Jane grumbled.

"Is this going to be another one of your tirades against the rich? You shouldn't be so judgmental towards Garrett. His grandfather practically built this city, you know!"

Jane turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to glare down at Maura. "My grandfather was an ironworker! _He _built this city! People like them have always walked all over people like me."

"Are you getting mad at me for coming from money, and associating with other people who do?

"No," Jane grunted. "I just don't get what you're doing slumming around with someone like me when you've got pals like that."

"Because I _like _you, Jane," Maura said impatiently. "I like you a lot, and frankly I'd rather go 'slumming' with you than anything else these days, but..."

She sighed, and Jane felt instant shame for the tone she'd had no right to use. Shifting her feet, she lay down her back once more, wishing that for once she could stop being such an idiot around Maura. Think of something classy to say, something nice. An apology. Not a joke.

"Earlier this week you said you loved me."

Yeah, nice work.

"You made me say it," Maura reminded her.

"So what, that means you didn't mean it?" Jane joked. Curiously, Maura didn't respond—at least, not verbally. She moved her hand over to Jane's, still not saying a word as she grasped it supportively. "Maura? Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Will you call me after the gala tomorrow?"

"It'll be late. Won't your folks mind?"

"I don't care. Just promise you'll call, please."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why?" She sounded honestly curious.

"Don't get mushy about it," Jane muttered. "I just wanna make sure everything goes okay, all right?"

"You're worried about me?"

"No! No, I'm just ... I just wanna hear how it goes, okay? That's what girls do. We call each other up and chat about how our dates went, and that's just... that's what we do!"

"If you say so," Maura said, smiling when Jane gave her hand a squeeze. "And should I warn Garrett that you'll give him a real talking-to if I feel I've been mistreated in any way?"

"No," Jane grunted. _I'm going to tell him that myself, and I'm not going to word it so delicately. _

* * *

**A/N**: Because protective Jane Rizzoli is my favorite Jane Rizzoli._  
_


	20. You (And You Alone)

**A/N**: I apologize for the lack of updates on my other stories, but I'm really caught up with this one at the moment. It's a hard balance, trying not to make this all "boo the women had no rights in the fifties," but also capturing the frustration I think a girl like Jane would feel. Especially in lieu of Angie Harmon's Conan interview last night, I feel the need to point out that I don't mean Jane wishes she was physically a man here. That's the point of the opening sequence in this chapter- she just wants to be herself in her own skin, but feels like the society she lives in won't allow that.

* * *

"_Come on, Rizzoli, are you telling me you're nervous?"_

_ "Shut up, Frost! Rizzoli's don't get nervous."_

_ "Then go over there and __ask her out__. Look, you want me to tell Anna to get their other friends and beat it, so you can have her alone?"_

_ "No," Jane snorted, straightening up and popping the collar of her leather jacket. "I've got this. I'm gonna make all her little friends swoon—and hey, maybe you better watch yourself, Frost. Maybe Anna'll like what she sees!" _

_ "Okay, now it's __your__ turn to shut up," Frost laughed, giving Jane's shoulder a shove and pushing her down the hallway._

_ Maura was standing by her locker, books held to her chest as she chatted with some friends, including Frost's girlfriend Anna. Maura always looked like she'd just arrived for a photo-shoot, and today was no different: she wore a pink button-down shirt, tailored to her figure with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows; a tight blue skirt that had to be against the school dress code; and the golden quality of her hair even managed to make a ponytail look glamorous. Her smile as she laughed at one of her friend's stories made Jane's heart pummel against her chest—insisting on being closer to this girl, swallowing her nerves. _

_ Jane strutted down the hall, hands in the pockets of her jeans, cool as could be. When Maura caught her eye, Jane nodded and shot her a quick grin, not letting up the confident swagger for a moment. When it became clear that Jane only had eyes for one of them, the rest of the girls shifted to allow her the room to step into their circle. She cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake for dramatic effect, a few curls spilling their way over onto her face. _

_ One arm leaning against the lockers, Jane winked at Maura. "Hiya, cutie." _

_ Maura bit her lip, smiling shyly and crossing one foot behind the other at the ankle. "Hi, Jane."_

_ A few of her friends giggled, and Jane smirked at their reaction. She was glad there was an audience here. Their delighted reaction to her come-on emboldened her; it stoked her ego to know that soon, once she was gone, they would be analyzing every look and every word she had shot at Maura. So she chose those carefully. _

_ "What're you doing this weekend?" she asked casually, one hand on her hip. _

_ Maura decided to be coy. "Why?" _

_ "I wanna take you out for dinner and maybe a dance or two," Jane said with a shrug, sending Maura's friends into another tide of unsubtle giggles. "Whaddya say? Go out with me, Maura? Make all our dreams come true?"_

_ "What do you know about my dreams, Jane Rizzoli?" Maura teased. Smirking more than ever, Jane leaned over to whisper something in Maura's ear. When she pulled away, Maura's mouth had fallen open in shock, and it seemed to take a moment for her to recover. "You certainly flatter yourself, Jane!" _

_ "Yeah, and you like it," Jane said smugly, but not offensively. She wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. "C'mon, Maura, say yes. Please? What do I gotta do, beg?" _

_ A light blush had settled on Maura's cheeks. "It wouldn't hurt."_

_ Jane just laughed. Looking unflinchingly into Maura's eyes, Jane summoned the huskiest voice she could muster: "I think you're the prettiest thing I ever did see, and by far the smartest person I've ever met. I think you're really interesting, and I wanna learn more about you. I also think you'd look really sexy on my motorbike. I'm nothing but a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but if you give me a chance, I'll change your world." _

_ "And how would you propose doing that?"_

_ "Honey, I haven't got time to tell you all the ways before the next class starts. Just say you'll go out with me on Saturday, huh?"_

_ "Oh, all right," Maura said, receiving a megawatt smile for her response._

_ "Swell! I'll pick you up at six, okay?"_

_ "It's a date."_

_ "You bet, sweetheart." Jane pushed away from the row of lockers, addressing Maura's friends as she swaggered past them by nodding and saying "ladies" in a deep voice. _

_ Frost ran to catch up, thumping her proudly on the back. Jane glanced over her shoulder to see Maura, delighted, surrounded by the swarm of girls. The word "dreamboat" reached her ears, and she blew Maura a kiss. For once, things seemed to be going her way. _

She woke up with a deep breath.

For a few moments, Jane was disoriented. She was lying in bed on her side, it was the middle of the night, and it was raining outside. Taking a deep breath, she rolled onto her back and slipped a hand under her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her stomach. Considering the dream she'd just had, she was surprised that her heartbeat was so normal, that she didn't feel flushed.

Maybe because it had been one of those dreams where she'd known it wasn't real the whole time. Frost being in school with her had been the first tip-off that this couldn't be reality. Perhaps that—knowing it was real—was what had given her dream-self the confidence to stride up to Maura and ask her out.

That's what she wanted to do. That's all she wanted, so, _so _badly. A way to ask Maura Isles out on a date, to pin her, to show that she was totally off the market. A way to give herself the right to punch out any guy's lights who looked at Maura too long. She wanted to hold her hand. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to stay up too late one night with her, wanted to smear her lipstick.

Before she knew it, Jane was out of bed and making her way downstairs and outside, stepping into a pair of shoes on her way. Once safely outdoors, she tromped down the porch steps and aimed a heavy kick at the brick wall of the house. It felt good. She had wanted to punch her bedroom wall as soon as she'd woken up from that dream, but it would've woken up one of the boys in the next room over. Out here, she could vent without that pressure.

_Kick. _She could never play in the majors, even if she'd been good enough.

_Kick_. She could never join the armed forces if the country she loved got involved in another war.

_Kick_. She could never be mayor, Senator, President, Supreme Court Judge.

_Kick. _If she grew up and never got married, she'd be an "old maid," whereas one of her brothers in the same situation would be a cool "bachelor."

_Kick. _If she DID get married one day, she'd have a heck of a time finding a husband who would appreciate that she wanted a career outside of childbearing and rearing.

_Kick. _The best compliment her father could give her was that she did anything as well as man. The worst insult he could hurl at one of her brothers was that they were acting like a girl.

_Kick_. How excited her mother had been to take her dress-shopping, as if Jane was finally fulfilling Angela's only hopes for her daughter. Nothing had ever made her more proud.

All of that, all of this, had been boiling anger and resentment within Jane for years. She'd long been jealous of the freedoms and opportunities that her younger brothers (especially Tommy) took for granted. There had been a time a few years back where she simply imagined that one day, she would just wake up and accept her lot in life as a girl, soon to be a woman. Remind herself that both her parents said Angela had been a feisty kid, but marriage had simmered her down—and look how happy she was now! But the older Jane got, the harder it was for her to feel anything but bitterness and a heavy desire not to buckle down to what was expected of her.

Maura was going to make life impossible.

Half of Jane wished the girl had never moved here. All the joy Jane got from spending time with her was overshadowed with the harrowing realization that she desperately wanted more than friendship from her, but would never get the chance to act on it.

Girls don't date each other. They don't make out with each other. They don't marry each other. Every dream Jane had about Maura could never, ever come true because of one lousy chromosome (incidentally, a concept that Maura had taught her about during one of their tutoring sessions).

Jane's train of thought was interrupted when she realized there were tears leaking out of her eyes, and that she had landed a punch on the brick. She hissed in pain, clutching her blood-scraped knuckles and hurrying back into the house. Her shoes got kicked off by the door so she could more quietly sneak towards the bathroom, where she hurriedly rinsed her hand before returning to her room. It was sore and she knew there would be evidence of the injury there tomorrow, and she'd have to come up with an excuse to tell everybody.

Back in her bed, Jane rolled onto her side and punched her mattress as hard as she could. Her fist bounced hard against the springs in the mattress; it was a satisfying reaction and didn't hurt. Quickly Jane shifted to rest on her knees, pummeling the mattress with both fists until her arms got tired. Eventually she flopped onto her stomach, breathing heavily into her pillow.

As she drifted back into sleep, she found herself wishing there was somebody—God, the sandman, anyone—she could pay to re-enter the dream world she'd been in earlier that night.

* * *

When Jane woke up the next morning, she was determined not to take out any of her aggression on Maura. She had a much better target in mind: Garrett Fairfield.

The scabs on her hand from punching the brick frame of the house wasn't as bad as she'd imagined. It was easily explained away as an injury that came from rolling over in the morning and accidentally hitting it against the edge of her nightstand. Frankie and Tommy gave her a hard time about it, but she paid them no mind even as they all walked off to school together.

Garrett was easily found before homeroom: he was standing by his locker, laughing it up with two of his buddies. Surely he was bragging about how he'd landed a date with the prettiest girl in their school. Irrational though it was, Jane couldn't help imagining that this time tomorrow, they'd all be congregated elsewhere as Garrett told them stories about how far he'd gotten with Maura—holding her hand, or stealing a kiss. Who even knew what Maura would be comfortable with on a first date?

"Well, hi, Jane!" Garrett said brightly, as she stomped over to him. "My, doesn't someone appear to be in a beautiful mood this morning?"

"Beat it, chumps," Jane growled to Rory and Steve. They glanced to Garrett for approval, and he nodded. "Let's get straight to it, Fairfield."

"Ooh, someone's serious!" he chuckled, grabbing one more book from his locker before reaching to close it.

He jumped a little when Jane slammed the door shut for him, nearly catching his fingers. "Serious as a heart attack, and I'll be more than deadly if I have to," she said with a bit of a snarl. "Maura tells me she's got a date with you tomorrow night."

"Well hey, if you're jealous, I'm sure I can arrange for one of my pals to take you out tonight," Garrett said with a shrug. "I won't be free myself until next week, of course."

Ignoring this response, Jane went on, "Don't get cute with me. You Fairfields are all alike. It's in your blood. I know your big brother fancied himself a ladies' man, liked to play around, mess with girls' hearts. And Bianca Tolucci's mother is a good friend of mine, and I know what Adam did with her."

Garrett grimaced at the mention of an incident that could have been a city-wide scandal if the news had broke. He and Bianca had had a pregnancy scare, and everyone in the Fairfield family had blamed Bianca for letting things get that far. Adam was just a victim of circumstance. Bianca's mother had been quick to blame her daughter as well. Still, Jane wasn't ready to take chances.

"I don't know if that's how you operate or not, but you listen to me: if I hear so much as an intimation that you have in any way made Maura uncomfortable, or nervous, or upset?" She paused there, letting Garrett's imagination run wild for a moment. "I will tear you limb from limb with my bare hands." To emphasize that this was not an empty threat, Jane grabbed his arm with a vice grip, and he winced noticeably before she pulled away. "So don't try me."

Pulling away with her best sneer, Jane turned and swiftly headed back down the hall towards her homeroom. Garrett took a moment to recover before walking in the opposite direction.

Neither of them realized that Emily had seen the whole exchange, peeking from around the corner. As a member of Jane's homeroom class, she slipped into the chair next to Jane's desk and cleared her throat to get her attention.

"That's not your seat," Jane muttered.

"I just wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"How do you ever hope to find someone if you're always so belittling and violent? Aren't you ever worried about being suitable?"

"What d'you care?"

To be honest, it was hard for Emily to articulate. She saw the way Jane treated Maura, and she sorely missed having someone care about her that much. The boys she dated were interested in little more than dancing with her, getting close to her, trying to touch her. Garrett was the only boy who'd seemed a little more attentive, but she'd let him wait too long and now he was going for an underclassman. Debbie and Kate were more shallow than a puddle, and that extended to the friendship they were willing to offer. Lately Emily had found herself longing for the conversations she and Jane used to have, the easy comfort her companionship had provided. Was it so terrible that she, Emily, wanted to be respected by their peers, wanted to live up to the image that was expected of her? Why was Jane always so adamant about going against the grain?

"We used to be close, Jane."

"You think I need you to tell me that?"

"I know you've replaced me—"

"Don't flatter yourself," Jane hissed. "You can't come close to touching Maura Isles. Not with a ten-foot pole, you couldn't."

Emily straightened up, clearly offended. "I'm just trying to help you, Jane! If you won't be so darn stubborn, you might realize we are graduating this year and at the rate you're going, there's no room for you in the real world!"

"Shut up," Jane said quietly, scratching her pencil into the wood of her desk.

"Why do you have to try and be so off-the-walls? Why can't you just..." _Try a little harder to fit in, and maybe we could be friends again. Maybe we could talk again, maybe I could feel like somebody thinks I'm worth something as an individual again. _"Be more like us, like you're supposed t—"

"I said _shut up!_" Jane yelled, and this time it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it—including, unfortunately, their teacher.

This had to be some kind of record, she thought glumly to herself, as she trudged to the detention hall just as the homeroom bell rang overhead. Alone in the room with the supervisor, she chose one of the desks closest to the window and tried to calm down. After a while, she heard a soft, repetitive grunting sound, and she realized the supervisor had fallen asleep. Rolling her eyes, Jane got out a pencil and started to doodle on her desk. She was sure if she tried to sneak out of the room, that would probably wake him up, but vandalism was a quiet way of rulebreaking that he would not be able to detect.

There were a few things already scratched into this desk, and Jane tried not to laugh. Some girl had written her name in front of Fairfield. Someone else had written a dirty word. A stick figure hung himself.

Before she knew what she was doing, Jane had finally succumbed to what had always seemed such a corny, childish gesture: _J.R. + M.I._, enclosed in a heart. Chin in her free hand, she smiled down at the little emblem for a moment. For a short while she was back in her dream world, and one of Maura's friends sat at this desk and saw the heart, and couldn't wait to go report to Maura what she'd seen.

That snapped Jane out of her fantasy, and she frantically tried to erase the mark. It didn't entirely disappear, and as a safety precaution, she changed the _J _to a _T_—now someone would think one of Tommy's friends had done it as a prank on him. She leaned back with a sigh and pulled out a book to distract herself until the bell rang her freedom again.

It wasn't until school was over that Jane got a chance to see Maura, and she hurried to cut her off before the girl got into her car.

"Jane! I was starting to think I wouldn't see you at all today," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, I've been busy," Jane said evasively. "Look, you're not gonna forget to call me tomorrow, are you? After your date? I know it'll be late, but I don't care. You're gonna call, right?"

"Of course," Maura replied, flattered by the attention. "Don't worry, I'll give you every detail."

"I don't need every detail," Jane said. "I just need to know that you're... if you're... I dunno, just call, okay?"

"I will. That's a promise."

Jane smiled in relief. "Good girl."

It wasn't hard for Maura to be honest with herself: she was much more deeply affected by Jane's earnestness than she had been by Garrett's macho approach to asking her out.

Neither of her parents bothered to ask what the heck she was doing when, in the hour before the event started on Saturday, Maura was sitting on the front porch picking petals off a flower, one by one.

_She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me..._

* * *

That Saturday was proving to be the longest day Jane had ever lived through.

She'd already taken the time to carefully forge her mother's signature on her detention slip, and while it was a careful art that took a steady hand, it didn't take up much time. Playing catch with Frankie until Angela got home from lunch occupied her mind for a while, and she even did some homework to try and speed up the day. Frost met up with her for some sparring, and that, she figured, was the best she'd get.

"Where's your pal?" he asked, and Jane knew he meant Maura. "Don't you usually hang on the weekends?"

"She's got a gala tonight," Jane grunted, ducking one of his punches and trying her hand at a right cross. "Spending the whole day getting ready."

"Fun," Frost snorted. He side-stepped Jane's cross then asked for a time-out. They started walking back to his house, and with a conversational air, asked, "Does your mom have friends over a lot?"

"I dunno, sometimes, I guess. Why?"

"Well... I don't know. I figure it's nice for adults to have lots of friends, right? Not just one?"

"What're you talking about, Frost?"

"You met my mom's friend Robin, right? It's like she's the only person my mom spends time with anymore. They do _every_thing together—they go to ball games, the movies, dinner ...not that I wanna go with them, it's just kinda funny, don't you think?"

"No," Jane said defensively. "I think it's nice that while your dad's gone, your mom has a good friend around. Don't you want her to have fun?"

"Yeah, it just seems kinda strange."

"What, you'd rather she was spending all that time together with a man instead? A man who's not her husband?"

"Of course not!"

"So what's the problem then? She's got a good friend, what's wrong with that? Didn't your mom say Robin was a war widow?"

"No, her husband works with my dad."

"Oh. Well, still... I don't see that there's anything wrong with it."

Frost still seemed a little jittery. "Yeah, I guess not. I like Robin a lot, I do. I guess I just thought that... I dunno, never mind." Clearly he wasn't expressing himself well. He just thought it was strange that his mother seemed to be forgoing all her other friends to spend one-on-one time with Robin.

When she got home later, Jane took a long shower and watched a couple of television programs with Frankie. Tommy was still grounded and thus couldn't take full advantage of their extended weekend curfew, but Frankie was gone the second he was done with dinner. Because she'd rather not tag along with him and Riley, Jane decided to stay in and play a few games of chess with Tommy. He was getting pretty good, and when she pointed this out, he admitted that it was only because he'd been picking up her tips over the last few years.

10:30 rolled by eventually, and Jane figured she ought to at least be in the vicinity of the phone for when Maura called. The even wouldn't be over until 11:00, and Jane figured she ought to allow at least fifteen minutes for Maura to get home.

She was surprised to see her mother on the phone at this hour.

"Pop? Who's Ma talking to?" Jane asked him in a hushed voice.

Glancing up from his paper, Frank couldn't help scowling a little bit. "Old high school friend of hers ended up in San Francisco and decided to call long distance. I guess it's earlier over there by about three hours—never mind that some people in Massachusetts might want to be going to sleep."

"Well, why don't you go on and go to bed, Pop?" Jane asked.

"I wanna see that your mother hangs up in a timely manner. You know how much those long distance phone calls cost?"

Jane just shook her head and went over to the couch, book in hand. Between clock-watching and mother-watching, she kept reading the same paragraph over and over. At 11:00, Frank cleared his throat significantly, but Angela didn't hear him. He got up and walked over to her, pointedly holding out his watch, and she nodded with a frown. She went on for another five minutes or so before Frank gave her his deadly serious look, and she hung up.

"Don't gimme that look, Angela," he groaned. "You were on the phone over an hour! Long distance!"

"Sophia and I haven't caught up in years! You expect us to be able to say everything we want to in under an hour?"

"Become her pen pal. Stamps are substantially less expensive, and you could work on your penmanship at the same time. C'mon." He gave her rear a light slap and nodded upstairs. "Let's go to bed. Jane, you staying down here?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Lights out and upstairs by 11:30, champ, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

As soon as they were up the stairs, Jane bolted across the room and sat by the phone. Now she was a little worried: what if Maura didn't get home by half past, and Jane couldn't be by the telephone anymore? It had been bad enough worrying that she might call while Angela was on the phone, but how could Jane justify jumping out of bed and racing down the stairs at midnight to answer the telephone?

It rang at 11:18, and Jane snatched it before a full ring could be completed. "Hello?"

"Wow!" Maura laughed. "Someone's eager to talk to me!"

"I just didn't want the phone ringing to wake up my parents," Jane scoffed. "So? How'd it go? Do I have to break his fingers for you?"

"No," Maura sighed. "He was a perfect gentleman, Jane."

"Yeah? Didn't spend the whole time staring at your cleavage?" Jane asked disbelievingly.

There was a short pause before Maura answered. "Do you think that's all I have to offer?"

"No! No, geez, I just would've thought a guy like Fairfield wouldn't be interested in anything else."

"He's interested in art, which is what the focus of the event was for. We had plenty of things to discuss besides how exquisite I looked in my dress."

"What'd you wear?"

"A baby blue dress by Travilla, and a gold lamé jacket."

"Mm. That must've looked amazing on you."

"Garrett seemed to think so."

"Don't suppose you could run over here for me to see if I agree with that assessment?" Jane joked.

Maura laughed. "Well, I'm not wearing it anymore!"

"Darn! Changed into your PJ's already?" Maura made some sort of assenting noise, which Jane had to assume meant yes. "So what all did you talk about?"

"I told you, just the art at the gallery. They've gotten some Rembrandts in, and I got the chance to give Garrett a survey on him and his work, his style. Are you familiar with Rembrandt?"

"No..."

"Oh. Well, he's worth your while..." She launched into a brief biography of the artist and descriptions of his most famous works. Jane concentrated mostly on the sound of Maura's voice, how it lilted and paused, and the sweet sound of the occasional laugh that made its way into her descriptions.

When she finished, Jane said, "Thanks, I'll file that name away. Did you and Garrett, um... did you do... anything? Like... you know?"

"We danced," Maura said. "A few times. I love to dance, and so does he. The band played jazz, mostly, and he was surprisingly adept at the steps."

"I like to dance," Jane jumped in. "I don't get the chance very much, but I like to do it. And I'm good at it."

"Are you really?"

"You sound surprised!"

"I am! Dancing doesn't seem like the kind of activity you would enjoy, but now that you mention it, I'm sure you're a fine dancer."

"You oughtta see me."

"I wish slow dancing came more naturally to me," Maura sighed wistfully. "At my coming-out party, I'm going to have to dance with my escort, probably a waltz. Although if I do go with Garrett, I suppose he can help me."

"You've already decided you want to ask him?" Jane asked, his heart plummeting. (She wasn't sure why she was so disappointed. It wasn't as though she had the option of going as Maura's escort, and Maura would need one. No matter who it was, Jane would be unhappy about it.)

"Oh, I don't know, it's too soon to tell." There was another short pause, and Maura sounded a little guilty when she went on, "He asked me out again for next week."

"Well!" Jane laughed, trying to sound happy for her. "I suppose you said yes!"

"He has tickets for the Boston Pops, and I am fond of that type of music."

"Great! That's great! Good for you. Good. Hey um, I just wanted to ask... I mean, my Ma said it was okay if I asked you, um—you know Thanksgiving's next week? You're family's probably doing something nice, but in case you need somewhere to go, we're always allowed to invite guests to our friends' annual party..." She crossed her fingers.

Maura sounded genuinely sorry to say, "I wish I could! I'm sure that would be a lot of fun. But my family's already accepted an invitation to spend it with the Fairfields."

"Right! Of course! That makes sense."

"It's too bad. It's on my birthday this year, and—"

"Your birthday's coming up?" Jane asked anxiously. "Why didn't you say something?!"

"Well, I am now!"

"Geez, Maura! What should I get you?"

"You don't have to get me anything."

"Welll I wanna do _something_. Forget it, I'll come up with it myself. Sweet sixteen, huh?"

"Yes. Should be nice, I think."

It was 11:29, and Frankie came barreling in through the front door, proud of himself for making curfew. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at seeing Jane on the phone in the living room, and he pointed to his watch. She waved him up the stairs, and he shrugged and bounced up with a spring in his step.

"Look, Maura, I gotta go."

"Wait, Jane—you're not upset, are you?"

"About what? You can't change your family's holiday plans."

"I mean about me and Garrett." (Jane winced at the way she worded it, like they were already an item.) "It's just a concert, Jane. You're still my number one."

Jane couldn't help smiling at the hark back to the joke she'd made earlier that week. "And you still love me?" she asked, trying her luck.

Maura's voice was low, reverent. "I still love you, Jane."

Jane's heart swelled, and her smile grew. "I love you, too. Bye."

She all but floated up the stairs after her brother.

Maura hung up and held up a small flower Garrett had given her, which she had absent-mindedly been plucking while on the phone with Jane. She smilingly pulled off the remaining petal: _she loves me_.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and thanks so much to those who've been reviewing. They're a huge help and really appreciated:)**  
**


	21. The Great Pretender

**A/N**: So the other day on tumblr, I posted a link to a documentary that was brought to my attention by the wonderful **eblane**. You can find it on youtube by searching "nfb forbidden love": it's comprised of interviews with lesbians who came of age in the late 1950s/early '60s, and has really helped me come up with a different (ultimately positive) route for this story. I definitely recommend watching it if you can!  
As for this chapter, some things sort of finally start happening. Ish.

* * *

Thanksgiving at the Sullivans' had become a tradition after Frank insisted he'd had it with Angela's relatives—and if Angela hadn't agreed that they were a lousy lot, she might have fought him on it. Instead, they were told that the Rizzoli's could no longer afford half-week trips over to New York for the holidays, so off it was to one of Frank's old army buddies. Many other families whose men had served with Sullivan also attended, including Alberto Gilberti.

"Janie, is Giovanni Gilberti seeing anyone?" Angela asked, turning around in the front seat to look at her daughter.

Crammed between her brothers in the back seat and stuck holding an enormous tray of mashed potatoes, Jane wasn't in a particularly happy mood to begin with. "I don't know," she said with a scowl.

"Aw, leave her alone, Ange," Frank said lightly. "Giovanni's a sweet kid, but Jane's way too bright for him! You oughtta aim high for your daughter, sweetheart!" His words made Jane feel a little optimistic, like maybe he'd sway Angela to lay off mentioning guys altogether. Unfortunately, "How about Jim's boy? You know, uh—Bill! Plays quarterback for BCU."

"Ooh, he's a real hunk and a half!" Angela laughed, smiling encouragingly at Jane.

All three of her children looked severely put off by the language she used to describe a person much younger than herself. "Bill's all right, I guess," Jane mumbled.

Angela rolled her eyes. "But?"

When Jane stayed silent, Tommy piped up, "He doesn't like girls who're more sporty than him."

"I don't blame him," Angela said. "Let me tell you something, Jane, and I think your father will agree with me whether he says so or not." She conspiringly held a hand up to the side of her mouth and whispered, even though they were all full aware that Jane wasn't the only one who could hear her. "A man's most sensitive spot is his pride. Bill's a big sports star! Of course he shouldn't get shown up by his girl."

"Ma, would you quit talking like we're picking out linens already?" Jane griped. "Guy like him's probably already got a girl, anyway."

"Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of other nice boys at this party," Angela said, turning around to face forward again.

"Yipee," Jane muttered, sinking lower into her seat.

When they pulled up to the Sullivans' home, a man and his wife were just getting out of their own powder blue Cadillac. The man waved cheerfully to Frank, who faked a pretty poor smile, and the man started animatedly talking to his wife as they walked up to the house. Angela asked who it was, but Frank just waved her off, telling her to go on inside. Tommy got out of the car so Jane could more easily hand Angela the potatoes, and when he made to follow her, Frank called him back to the car so he could say something to him and Frankie. Angela took the tray of potatoes from Jane and told her to go back for the trimmings and host gift that had been stashed into the trunk. With Tommy's car door still open, if Jane strained her ears, she could hear what Frank was telling his sons:

"...a queer. Name's Del Rossi. Sullivan says the guy's been 'cured' of it, so we gotta be civil, but I don't think I buy it. Listen here, boys: don't you spend a second alone with him, get me? And if he does anything—if he _tries _to do anything, makes you uncomfortable? Deck him. Get outta there but beat it out of him first if you have to. I know you boys are strong, and I'm proud of that. Don't hold back when you have to."

"I don't get it," Tommy sniggered. "Married to a bombshell like that? How could a guy stay a fairy?"

Juggling the host gift and a jar of gravy, Jane loudly slammed the trunk of the car and walked away before she could hear anymore of the conversation. As soon as she walked inside, she was greeted loudly by Sullivan, who took the items out of her hands before she could ask where to put them. She was glancing around to see if there was anyone in here she might remotely consider talking to, and her eyes had zeroed in on the legs of Del Rossi's wife before her father's friend Jim walked right up to her.

"Janie!" he roared, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "How ya been, kid? Your mom said you were just dying to talk to Bill—wouldn't talk about anyone else on the whole drive up, huh?" He laughed, giving her a joking elbow in the ribs as she sputtered and tried to correct him. "Don't blame you. My boy's got all the coeds going nuts! He's out back throwing the old pigskin around."

"I d—I—"

"Ah go on, he'll be tickled to see ya!" Jim chuckled, basically shoving her in the direction of the back door.

Seeing as there was nobody in here to talk with anyway, Jane made a mental note to yell at her mother as she stepped outside. Bill was indeed involved what appeared to be a very serious football game with boys varying in age from their early twenties to junior high. It wasn't long before Frankie and Tommy came barreling out the door, the latter nearly knocking her over in his eagerness to join in the game. Jane stumbled down the porch steps, barely staying on her feet thanks mostly to the porch railing.

Bill caught her eye and waved, and was quickly joined in his waving by Giovanni, who skipped over to her.

"Want in on the game, Jane?" he asked.

"Nah, but thanks."

She'd tried joining in on their games before. Nobody passed to her, and even if they did, nobody would have dared tackle her. The one time she had successfully tackled a boy, she'd of course made a mess of her clothes and Angela had scolded her all the way home. Instead, she wandered back up the porch to where a group of girls were sitting, recognizing some of them as daughters of her dad's friends.

"Hi, Jane!" one of them greeted her, pulling up an empty chair. "How's it going?"

"Well Kathy, it's going, I guess," Jane sighed, sitting next to her. "What're you all doing?"

"My mother keeps forgetting the boys don't like walnuts in their jello salad," explained one of the girls. "Taste rules over aesthetics, apparently, so we're picking them out. Care to join?"

"Sounds grand," Jane snorted, leaning back in her chair. "Think I'll just watch."

"Well at least do something entertaining and watch the boys!" Kathy laughed. "Bill Jenkins' a real cutie, isn't he?"

Jane shrugged. "Kathy, you still playing softball?"

"You bet!" she said brightly. "As a matter of fact, I just came over here from a game. We beat the pants off the other team, and I had to change in the car ride over. How'd you like a souvenir?"

She took a blue baseball cap that had been placed on the railing and tossed it at Jane. Laughing, Jane put the cap on backwards and pounded the fist of one hand into the palm of the other, leaning forward and spreading her legs. Kathy laughed and said she really looked the part of a catcher.

"HEADS UP!"

The football from the boys' game was suddenly flying in their direction, and Jane turned just barely in time to catch it. Doing so nearly made her fall out of her seat, and the edge of the ball caught her cheek. Swearing under her breath, Jane stood up and chucked the ball to Frankie. The throw had a pretty good spin on it, and she was a bit miffed that none of the boys thought to at least compliment her on it. Glowering at the lot of them, Jane turned and went back into the house to wash her face.

On her way to the washroom, her arm was grabbed by her mother, who yanked her over to introduce her to some people.

"Honey! Have you met Adamo Del Rossi? He was in your father's unit!"

"Hi," Jane said stiffly, extending her hand for Del Rossi to shake.

He seemed an amiable enough guy, well-built but with a weak chin. His smile was nice, though, and with one arm around his wife's waist, he nodded at her and said, "Nice to meet you, kiddo! This knock-out here's my wife—"

"Mamie van Doren," Frank said, walking up to stand by Angela.

Del Rossi shot him a withering look, matched by Angela's. "Roxie."

To be fair, Roxie Del Rossi appeared to be the type of woman Angela usually made a point of telling Jane never to emulate or admire. Her skirt was strikingly short (especially surprising given the weather), putting her nylon-covered legs on full display. Her lipstick was a daring shade of red, almost as shocking to the eye as her platinum blonde hair. The neckline of her sweater was relatively low, and aided her rather magnificent bra in showing off a very well-endowed chest—one that Jane was struggling not to stare at.

"Hi, Roxie," Jane said, quickly removing her borrowed baseball cap.

"Roxie, hello," Frank said, shaking her hand. "Now, tell me—how did you two meet, exactly?"

"Korsak introduced us," Del Rossi explained, nodding at a rather jolly looking man a few clusters away. Jane recognized him as a beat cop she'd seen around town now and then. "Roxie was a WAC, you know."

"A knock-out like you? No!" Frank laughed.

Roxie just smiled. "Yes, sir. Navy mechanic."

"Wow," Jane breathed.

Roxie grinned at her a little more genuinely. "What'd you say your name was, honey?"

"Jane."

"Jane," Roxie purred, reaching over and pinching Jane's cheek. Jane's first instinct was to pull away before she realized Roxie was wiping some dirt from the football off her face. Her touch seemed to be unnecessarily lingering, though. "Look at you, you're adorable! How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she said, a little put off by Roxie's condescending tone.

"Aww, just a sweet young thing."

"Get a load of her!" Del Rossi laughed. "She's only just twenty!"

That only made Jane feel all the more annoyed at the condescension, and she excused herself to go to the washroom.

Dinner passed somewhat uneventfully, and Jane spent most of it quietly shooting down her mother's suggestions of which boys at the party might be eligible for her. Everyone wanted to know what her plans were after graduation, and she made a few casual remarks about schools she'd applied to—simply failing to bring up the one she'd ambitiously filled out for BCU. Talking to Maura about it had encouraged to try, just to see if she could get in. So far she'd managed not to tell a soul, and she planned to keep it that way until she found out whether she'd made it.

Through most of the meal, she couldn't help but let her mind drift to Maura, and the sumptuous party at the Fairfields she was attending. What was she wearing? Was Garrett with her the whole time? Did she laugh at his jokes? Was there music, did they dance again? And today was her birthday—had there been a cake for her? Presents? Had Garrett planned anything special?

Other times, she found herself wondering about Del Rossi. What had made him queer? When had he first kissed another man, and what prompted him to feel like he was safe to do so? Or had the other man initiated it? _How could you do something like that_, and be certain that the other person involved wouldn't bolt, or beat you, or report you?

It was a bit overwhelming.

As dessert was consumed by all and more and more drinks had by the adults, Jane found herself conversing with one of the few sober men left at the party, Officer Korsak. He was a nice enough guy, and didn't talk to her like she was an idiot, which she appreciated.

"So you're shooting for a higher education, huh?"

"Thought I'd try, yes, sir."

"I think that's a mighty good plan, kid. Mighty good. I think a girl ought to be educated."

"Well sir, way I see it...my best friend's a girl, and she's the smartest person I know. I feel like she could just about save the world if she got the chance, but I don't know if she'll ever get it."

"Save the world, huh?"

"Eh, not like Superman. Like a super scientist! She could leave the rough stuff to me."

"Brains and brawn, huh? Always makes a good match. If you're really blessed, you can have both."

He tipped his glass of water at her, and Jane just laughed back.

As her family was later preparing to leave (Angela offering to drive), Jane stopped in the washroom one more time. The door had been propped open, leading her to believe it was unoccupied, but she quickly saw her assumption was incorrect when she saw Roxie Del Rossi staring into the mirror.

"Hi, Janie," she drawled. "How'd you know I was in here?"

"Oh—uh—I didn't," Jane said, awkwardly trying to back away, though her hand was still on the knob. "Sorry, I—"

Roxie pulled Jane inside the bathroom, slamming the door shut and giving Jane a hard shove against it. "Save it, sweetheart. You think I haven't noticed the way you've been staring me down all night?"

"I'm—I have not," Jane said, though without much conviction.

"Tsk, tsk. Lying, to boot! Honey, it's a shame you're not old enough to drink."

"You're hammered!"

"No," Roxie sighed. "I've had enough to be brave. Any more, and the next stage would be weeping. Tell me, honey, which of those boys out there is your sweetheart? Or haven't you got one?" When Jane's only response was a stunned silence, Roxie just tittered into the back of her hand. "Oh, of course you don't! Of course you don't, you... you _cute _little butch in femme's clothing."

"Hey," Jane said softly, feeling by Roxie's tone that she ought to be insulted.

Roxie's voice deepened and she stepped closer. "You ever kissed a girl, Jane?"

Jane could've sworn she felt her heart stop. "Hm? Ever wanted to, at least?"

She gently put a hand on Jane's shoulder, and Jane swatted it instantly away. "Leave me the hell alone," she muttered, dodging away from Roxie and back out the door.

She felt numb the entire ride home, rendered silent by the thought of what had just happened to her.

A woman who might have been a pin-up model for a nude calendar had just unmistakably flirted with her. Or—that's what she'd been doing, right? Maybe that had just been the alcohol acting up. Maybe Jane had misread it. But she had also called Jane out on the one thing she was determined never to let anyone know, and that was by far the most harrowing part of it. Was it so obvious that Jane felt so disconnected from most of the other girls at the party? Had anyone else noticed that she'd kept shooting glances at Roxie's breasts all night, sometimes looking down to stare at her legs? Fear that she hadn't been as subtle as she'd thought consumed Jane to the point that she was almost shivering.

She didn't like feeling this nervous. Not at all.

Roxie was brazen, and Jane quickly learned the lesson that she did not like being made to be the chump. She liked calling the shots, she liked being in control, deciding when to take initiative. Maybe that's why she'd always had a hard time with guys; they took it for granted that they were responsible for starting things, ending things, taking the lead. She didn't like being caught off guard, and had always said to herself that if _she'd _ever gotten the chance to have the dominant role in a relationship, she wouldn't abuse the power.

Her family could barely get through to her as she trudged into the house and went right to bed, though her mind certainly wasn't quiet enough for sleep yet.

What did it all mean? How could a woman who looked like Roxie possibly even _know _about the type of girl Jane believed she was turning out to be?

On the other hand, maybe it meant that Jane wasn't imagining it when she could swear she saw lust in the eyes of someone as feminine as Maura Isles. Maybe it meant girls who genuinely enjoyed their femininity could possibly be attracted to other girls... or maybe only when they were tipsy. Actually, the whole night was sort of confusing: given her father's assessment of Del Rossi, she'd expected him to be a very wimpy-looking, limp-wristed guy. In reality, he looked like he could have bowled over an entire tank with one fist.

Back to Roxie: why was it so hard for Jane to take some of her own medicine? She'd been much more take-charge with Maura sober, and it had never really bothered her. Maybe it hadn't been in the best of taste, but ultimately she'd figured it was harmless. Had it bothered Maura as much as that small incident with Roxie had bothered Jane? Had she ever made the girl feel cornered, scared?

_I liked her, I took it out on her. I like her. I think maybe I love her a little bit. God, please. Change me like you changed Del Rossi. Help me stop feeling this way. Help me stop thinking about Maura this way. Help me be okay with just being her friend. I just don't want to lose her. __Please__, God, don't let me lose her. _

Not even a minute after she'd prayed to stop feeling this way, Jane couldn't help thinking of Roxie's question—if she'd ever kissed a girl, or wanted to. She started imagining in great detail what it might be like to kiss Maura. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and closed her eyes, trying to picture it. She'd been kissed before, of course, but this would be entirely different. How, she wasn't entirely sure. The more sleep came to her, the bolder her imagination grew, but no more concrete. They were still hazy images that were just out of reach, and she found herself now praying for the courage to grab them.

One thing was sure: her first order of business the next day was to visit Maura.

They had decided that as nice as it was for Jane to want to give Maura a gift on her actual birthday, there wouldn't really be any time for it: the Rizzoli's wouldn't be home until very late, and Maura was just as sure to out later than usual as well. So, they had agreed for Jane to come over that morning before her job interview at the Skylark Country Club.

Eager for Jane's arrival, Maura was already waiting on the front steps by the time Jane got there. Holding a package of her own, she lead Jane around to the back of the house, settling on the back porch swing and patting the spot next to her.

Sitting down, Jane said, "You do know that on your birthday, you're not the one who's supposed to be giving presents, right?"

"Not according to J. R. R. Tolkein!" Maura said happily

"Who?"

"Jane, haven't you ever read _The Hobbit_? Or _The Lord of the Rings_?"

"No," Jane laughed, remembering when the latter books had come out a few years previously and Frankie had practically devoured them. "I can't get into goblins and elves and stuff like that, I guess. I'm kinda surprised _you _can, actually."

"Tolkein was a linguist above all else," Maura said, now feeling a little embarrassed for loving something that Jane clearly thought was dumb. "That's the whole reason why he started writing—to... to create his own languages and cultures. The characters were merely excuses to exercise his linguistic creativity."

"Linguistic creativity," Jane snickered. "Sounds like a chef who's a genius with linguini."

"Do you want this present or not?" Maura huffed.

Jane held her hands up to offer peace. "I'm sorry, yes. I didn't mean to make fun of you, Maura."

"There is a tradition among a certain race of characters in his novels, the hobbits," Maura went on, though her pride was sufficiently ruined by the fact that Jane was clearly trying not to laugh. "On birthdays, they give gifts to others."

"Oh. Well, that's something I think I can get on board with!"

Maura rolled her eyes and handed over the package. "I thought so."

Exhibiting no restraint, Jane tore into the gift and her mouth dropped open in shocked surprise. "Hey! You remembered!"

"You like them?" Maura asked eagerly. It was a pair of Ray-ban aviators, and Jane excitedly slipped them on. "I'm sorry I couldn't quite afford a bike to go with them on my allowance."

"That's all right, what d'you think I'm getting a job for?" Jane asked, and Maura thought she just might pass out from the effect those sunglasses and that smile were having on her. Feigning an official, serious voice, Jane said, "Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you to pull over. Any idea how fast you were going?"

Maura tucked her legs up onto the swing, resting her elbow along the top of it and smiling at Jane. "I don't think a soul exists who'd mind getting pulled over by Officer Rizzoli."

Jane laughed uneasily and pushed the shades up to the top of her head. "Thanks, Maura. I love 'em."

"You're welcome."

"Okay, now open yours."

Maura took the small bag Jane had thrown in her lap, and opened it. A small note was tied to the top, which read: _Roses are red, violets are blue, here's something almost as pretty as you. _

Mistaking the look of melted adoration on Maura's face for one of derisive amusement, Jane quickly said, "I'm sorry, I didn't really have time to come up with something real sharp or poetic."

"You're sweet," Maura said, looking up and smiling at Jane. "The rhyme may be rudimentary, but it's sweet. Thank you."

Smiling with relief, Jane just shrugged and told Maura to go ahead and fully open the bag. Inside it was a silver locket just over an inch long, intricately detailed with an opal in the center. It had cost Jane most of her own allowance, and she had pawned a bit of her own jewelry that she never wore to get it. When she'd first seen it, she had instantly thought of Maura, and set out to obtain it for her. Seeing Maura's reaction made it clear that this had been a good choice.

"Jane, it's beautiful," she murmured, opening it carefully. She looked a little melancholy. "There's nothing inside it."

"What, you think I was gonna give you that and stick a picture of _me _in there?" Jane chuckled. "I want you to put whatever you want inside that locket. It's yours."

Maura straightened up a little, looping the chain over her neck. The locket rested just over her heart, and she clasped her hand around it, holding it there. She loved the thought of keeping something right there that Jane had given her, had thoughtfully picked out for her. Jane's arm was resting on the back of the swing, her palm close to Maura's shoulder. Raising her eyebrows hopefully, she tapped her fingers against the top of Maura's arm, and Maura scooted over to fit into Jane's one-armed embrace. Her head rested against Jane's shoulder as Jane's arm curled around her, the fingers of their free hands interlacing.

"Pretty ring," Jane commented, tracing Maura's finger.

She sighed and restlessly nudged the ring with her thumb. "Thank you. Garrett gave it to me."

It took a moment for Jane to remember that she had no rightful claim on Maura, to be able to indignantly ask how she could wear a boy's ring when she had just taken Jane's locket. Instead, Jane did her best to laugh. "Wow! He gave you a ring? Moves pretty fast, doesn't he?"

"An engagement ring would be on my _left _hand, Officer Smartypants," Maura said, and Jane chuckled. "I don't care for rings much, actually. Garrett noticed I didn't wear any, and said he thought all girls should wear rings. I think it's turning my skin green."

"So why are you wearing it?" Jane asked.

"I want to be polite, I suppose," Maura said. "There's a chance our paths may cross today, and I don't want to be so rude as to not be seen wearing it the day after he gave it to me."

"Oh. Um...y'know, Maura, if you don't like that locket, you don't have to w—"

"No, Jane, I love it!" Maura cut her off earnestly, shifting her head to look at Jane. One hand had flown protectively to the locket, as if she worried that Jane might try to remove it from her.

Jane looked her over carefully, half-smiling. "Yeah, I bet you told Garrett the same thing."

"Of course I didn't," Maura said. "You know I can't lie."

"So what'd you tell him?"

"I thanked him from it and said I'd never seen anything like it. He assumed it to be a compliment, so there you are."

"There I am," Jane said, feeling satisfied again that at least Maura honestly seemed to enjoy her gift. "So how _was _your little _soiree_, anyway?"

"Nothing little about it, in fact," Maura said, returning her head to Jane's shoulder. "It was extravagant and, until the band arrived, excessively dull. I wish I could have been with you. Did you enjoy yourself at your family friend's party?"

_A woman there basically called me a lesbian. She knew, and I hadn't talked to her all of five minutes. What d'you think of women like that, Maura? Lesbians? Think they can help it? What would you do if you met one? Have __you__ ever wanted to kiss a girl? Would you ever want to kiss me? Maybe? Don't answer that. Don't, because even if you wanted to, I can't. I can't, I can't. It's wrong, don't you know that? You have to know that. Your scientific mind has to know it's unnatural. _

Jane shrugged. "Wasn't so bad, I guess. I wish I'd been with you, too. Garrett treat you okay?"

"He was very polite, and very attentive."

"He tell you how pretty you are?"

"Incidentally, yes."

"Did he mean it?"

The question threw Maura a bit. "I suppose he did," she said slowly.

Jane started to rub Maura's arm. "You are pretty, you know," she whispered. "You've got the prettiest smile I've ever seen."

Piece by piece, Maura made things fall into place for Jane. Jane had never been any good at receiving compliments from boys, and nor had she been particularly good at flattering them in return. Sure she could tell Casey he looked sharp or Joey that he had a nice build, but the comments were objective, mostly made out of a sense of obligation. There wasn't that spontaneous desire to make the other person feel good, or flattered, or cherished.

Maura brought that all out. Jane found it astoundingly easy to compliment her, to want to keep her close. If she could just keep any guy from ever seriously making his way into Maura's life, she'd be satisfied.

"Any slow dancing at your party last night?" Jane asked, her voice soft.

"Mm-mm. I still have to learn."

Jane's lips grazed the top of Maura's head. "Let me teach you?"

"I'd like that."

"Me too. Till then, though...I should get going."

Maura held onto her a little tighter. "So soon?"

"Yeah. If I miss my interview, I won't have a shot at that job, which means I'll be that much farther away from possibly getting that bike!" Jane said, pulling her arm away from Maura and getting up. "Happy belated birthday, Maura."

"Happy belated Thanksgiving, Jane."

She swiftly kissed Jane's cheek, and Jane just as swiftly returned it. The urge to grab Maura by the shoulders and kiss her on the lips was painfully powerful, and Jane stood up fast to avoid further temptation. Smiling to assuage the concerned look on Maura's face, Jane waved her goodbye and said she'd call later. She was around the corner and gone before she could see Maura's hand slightly extended, as if reaching for her.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Constance, who had had a clear view of it from the window of the library. She had been perusing some texts herself when she innocently happened to pass the window and see her daughter comfortably nestled into Jane's embrace on their rarely-used swing.

Maura soon disappeared from view, and Constance assumed she would be heading up to her room. Instead, a few moments later, she appeared in the doorway of the library. Constance looked up from the sofa and smiled at her.

"What a beautiful locket," she said. "Did Jane get that for you?" Slowly closing the door, Maura nodded. Constance shut her book and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head. Her daughter's expression was starting to worry her. "Maura?"

"Mother, if I tell you something—will you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Darling, I would never laugh at you," Constance said softly, seriously.

Still standing by the door, Maura was trembling. "I only just turned sixteen. I can't know how it feels."

"Never let anyone tell you that you are too young to feel, Maura. Everything is relative. Anything you feel is valid, is true, because it is what you know. Please, dear, we wouldn't get anyplace if we didn't at least validate ourselves."

"But I think I'm in love," Maura blurted out, tears starting to fall out of her eyes. Her breath hitched and she impulsively reached for the locket, unsure of how to interpret the expression on her mother's face. She wasn't sure if she was sad or grateful that Constance had yet to move from the sofa, to fully react. The distance felt safe for the moment, especially as she seemed unable to stop the rest of her thoughts from spilling out: "Gay, mother. That's what they call it, and that's wh—that's what I think I am."

Constance felt frozen. Even as she'd been expecting a confession like this to eventually come about, she hadn't fully prepared herself for the best way to respond to it, to tell Maura what she needed to hear. A rug had been pulled out from under with the timing of it, and for one of the few times in her life, she was afraid. She feared saying the wrong thing.

A small sob came out of Maura, and that jarred Constance out of her panic. Maybe words weren't necessary at the moment. She merely opened her arms and gestured for Maura to come to her, and just then, that was more than the child felt she could have hoped for from her mother.


	22. It's Only Make-Believe

This was not how it was supposed to be.

After Maura made her confession out loud, the world was supposed to open up and swallow her whole into its fiery depths—the way it always seemed to when she was on the verge of terror. Her own heartbeat was supposed to pound in her ears as loud as a timpani drum. Her skin was supposed to feel clammy, her breathing halt, the world start spinning in her eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be the first time her mother's arms encircled like this. It wasn't supposed to be a long, firm, kiss to her forehead; a hand gently patting her hair. It wasn't supposed to be her mother's body shuddering against her own, holding back tears as Maura cried. It felt like dousing a fire by throwing a blanket on it: Maura had been ready to expect everything except the warmth and comfort she was actually receiving. She had not expected her strong, confident mother's voice to waver, to sound weak.

"You are not a mistake," she said, her voice choked with tears, and Maura only cried harder. She kissed the top of Maura's head, clutching her tighter. "You are not perverted, Maura. You are not wicked."

Those were all words that had been swirling around Maura's panicked mind for weeks: gay people were nature's mistakes, they were wicked, and her own father had called them perverted. Science had failed her, expressing two vastly different opinions on the matter, and this left her not knowing who to follow.

She had never prayed before. But hearing her mother's reassuring words made her feel as she imagined a devout person who has sinned must feel after believing God had heard and answered one of their prayers. Relief and gratitude were mixed together, but still riddled with air pockets that let in tinges of despair, anxiety, and guilt. No matter what God said or your mother told you, the world was still an imperfect place filled with imperfect people, and unfortunately that meant that nobody on earth was guaranteed freedom from fear.

Maura and Constance had always spoken candidly with each other, but not personally like this. Perhaps that was because Maura had never felt anything so strongly that she needed to tell someone else about it, but her feelings for Jane were bubbling to get up and out of her.

"I love her," she said in a stilted voice, speaking between small sobs. "Mother, I _love _her—I just want to be with her all the time, and when I'm not, I don't enjoy myself, and I w… I just want to be with her!"

With just those few sentences, she had exhausted her ability to speak coherently, and she dissolved back into loud sobs. Constance repositioned herself slightly, still holding Maura close—not that she had an option, as Maura was clinging to her like she never had before.

_"Mama, don't hand her to me!"_

_ "Constance, this is your cousin! You should hold her!"_

_ "I'll drop her! I'll drop her, don't give her to me!"_

_ "Be reasonable, child. Do you think I would hand her to you if I didn't think you could handle it? Get over this silly fear of yours! How will you hold your own children one day?"_

_ She stamped her foot indignantly. "I won't! I'm not going to have any children!"_

_ Her mother laughed condescendingly. "Don't be ridiculous, dear."_

_ "It's not! It's not ridiculous! Don't laugh at me! I can't—I don't—I don't know what to do; just don't give her to me!" _

"It's a terrifying thing, Maura," Constance said, her chin resting on the top of Maura's head as she rubbed her daughter's back slowly and up down. "Being in love, I mean. One hardly knows what to do with oneself, and everything seems so magnified."

"I d-don't understand," Maura sputtered. "Mother, I don't understand w-why I am this way! I don't want to be!"

The sympathetic side of Constance—the one who would defend her Parisian friends to the end—wanted to indignantly ask "why not?", but the answer was clear. Of course Maura didn't want to face being ostracized more than she often already was. Of course she was afraid to be associated with something that was widely considered distasteful at best, sinful at worst. Of course she wanted to be able to tell the girl she loved how she felt without fear of retribution from anyone.

"There is one very unfortunate truth that the human race has had to wrestle with since the dawn of our existence," Constance said. "And that is, there is true reality and there is _our _reality."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean that love is like modern art, Maura. It isn't _about _what you can understand. It's about what you feel. The attraction you feel to Jane is as understandable as you wish it to be."

At this, Maura pulled away from Constance enough to look her in the eye. "How did you know it was Jane?" she asked, sounding a little rueful.

Constance couldn't help giving her a sad smile. "My dear, who else would it be?"

Maura wracked her brain, trying to think of times she might have inadvertently dropped clues about her true feelings towards Jane. But she quickly realized that those moments probably tallied in the hundreds, from the subtle to the blatantly obvious, and of course her mother would have picked up on them. Besides, though she was friendly with a couple of other girls at school, who did she really spend time with apart from Jane? Certainly no one worth writing home about.

Looking back at her mother, Maura saw pain in her steel blue eyes and was instantly terrified about what it might mean.

"You're not… disgusted by me?" she sniffed, worrying in spite of everything her mother had said to comfort her.

Constance groaned and reached for her daughter again. "Of _course _I'm not, darling."

"I j-just thought… maybe it was all right for your friends to be that way, but m-maybe if it was your daughter…"

"Maura, this changes nothing about how I think of you."

_She's thinking of me. _"But you look so distraught," Maura said, refusing to believe this could all be so easy for Constance to accept.

With a shaky breath, Constance clutched the back of Maura's head, now whispering. "I _am_ distraught, Maura. I'm distraught for you, and what this means for you. Do you find yourself attracted to boys at all?"

"Yes—maybe—I don't know," Maura sniffed, wiping at her eyes. Constance wished she had a tissue or handkerchief on hand. "What does it matter, mother? I'm in love with somebody already. What do I do? How do I tell her?"

"Maura, listen to me. I never made plans for you the way some mothers have plans for their daughters. I don't care how you dress, which classes you like, or whether you're the top of your homemaking class. I don't care if you meet every requirement for homecoming queen. Yes, it would make me happy to see you still attend a debutante ball, but if you are no longer interested in doing so, I _am not _going to insist that you do. I don't believe in forcing a child to go against whatever feels natural and comfortable for them. When you came into our lives, Maura, there were only two things I wanted you to be: safe, and happy."

Neither of them was sure who had initiated it, but their hands were clasped together, and Constance tightened her grip as two more tears rolled out of her eyes.

"I never thought those qualities might be mutually exclusive," she went on, her voice straining. Maura's chin was quivering, and Constance gently cupped her face. "I can't guarantee the responses of anyone but myself if you were to follow through on these feelings. I can't even tell you how Jane would react."

"But she likes me, doesn't she?" Maura asked hopefully.

That gave Constance pause. It was abundantly clear to her that Jane was infatuated, but she didn't want to tell Maura that and give her any false hope that it meant Jane would be on board with accepting those feelings. In meeting Jane and then her mother, Constance actually felt pretty confident asserting the opposite: that there was a good chance Jane would carry her feelings to the grave rather than admit them to herself, let alone anyone else. She knew her daughter was smart, and that Maura wouldn't just blurt out anything to Jane without feeling like she could, or so one hoped…

"Jane obviously cares for you a great deal," Constance murmured, and she thought she saw Maura's expression brighten ever-so-slightly.

It broke her heart not to be able to encourage Maura to thoughtlessly, romantically pursue this relationship right away. The thought of it happening did not bother her in the slightest: it was Jane's reaction she was worried about. Holding a person's heart was a delicate position, especially if you didn't realize you had it captive. Naturally Constance hoped that if Jane were not willing to admit she reciprocated Maura's feelings—or if there was the highly unlikely chance that Constance had read her wrong, and Jane _did _only see Maura as a good friend—that she would respect Maura's privacy and not tell anyone else until Maura was ready. And she certainly hoped Jane wouldn't be cruel about it, or despise Maura for it. The truth of the matter was that while she could make educated guesses, she could not with certainty tell Maura how she thought Jane would truly react. There were too many possibilities.

"Mother, what should I do?" Maura asked plaintively.

"The important thing is to remember that you are not alone. Far from it. There are others out there like you, Maura, and many of them are leading happy, successful lives. Don't think that all hope is lost for you."

Maura's voice trembled: "B-but what if she hates me? What if she hates me for it?"

"Then it will be her loss," Constance said simply. "I have always pitied your classmates, Maura, for being unable to appreciate you. There is a sweetness, a softness in you that must be inherent, because they are qualities that have never seemed to come naturally to me. I should be very sorry for Jane if she were to lose your friendship based on something you did not choose."

"It's _not _a choice, is it?" Maura clarified. Constance shook her head. "Then… that also means I can't choose _not _to be this way."

"Well, not exactly, no. The choice comes in whether you decide to live how you like. That's what I meant earlier about realities: in the reality in which we live, some people would like to dictate who you ought to love. In my own experience, that has never been an issue for me, because have always been attracted to men. I am very in love with your father. What you feel is not a cheap imitation of that kind of love—I am sure it is very real. My concern is one I know you have already noted; that not everyone shares my views."

"I wish they did," Maura said in a garbled voice, ridding her face of the last of her tears. "You won't tell anyone what I said, will you?"

"I would never share anything you told me in confidence, Maura."

"Not even to father?"

"Not without your express permission."

Maura's eyes fell to the sofa as her breathing finally became normal again. "I don't know if I can tell her," she said in a soft voice.

The unspoken _should I? _lingered in the air a few moments before Constance addressed it. "That's not a call I can make for you, Maura. You must be certain of where you stand, and try to be certain of where _Jane _stands before you… get in over your head. Maura?" She waited for Maura to look at her, and tried to smile. "Some scientists believe what you're feeling is natural. While I would advise you to be cautious about whom you share your inclinations with, I don't want you to be deluded into thinking there is something fundamentally, scientifically wrong with you."

"There's not?"

"There's not. Your… your father and I work hard for equality among the races, you know that."

"Yes."

"And he stood up for me time and again when there were people who shot down my ambitions simply because I am a woman."

"I know."

"I'll work on him," she said softly, kissing Maura's forehead again. Seeing her slightly panicked expression, she said, "I won't tell him what you told me, Maura. I promise. I'm just going to try and explain to him that his feelings towards …the people you identify with… need to change. That they are no less prejudiced than what we see against the blacks or even just women around here these days."

"Thank you," Maura whispered.

Constance pulled her into another embrace, and they stayed like that for some time. "You're my girl," she said softly. "Nothing will ever change that, Maura, nothing. I am deeply touched that you felt you could confide in me, and I promise to do everything in my power to help you know that your trust was not misplaced."

That started Maura's tears anew, and she nodded as she fell more completely into her mother's arms.

* * *

The first snow of winter fell that Friday night, and it took much of Saturday to get the roads in town cleared. Maura spent most of the day in the family library, soaking in as many of Kinsey's affirmative words as she could. He spoke in technical terms she could appreciate, without what she perceived to be the APA's clear prejudices. Leaving only for lunch, she quickly lost track of the time, and before she knew it, it was dark outside.

Most people she knew seemed to loathe the winter for bringing premature darkness, but she liked it. As a child, it had always made her feel so grown-up to be allowed to stay awake when technically night had fallen. Slightly older now, there was a romantic aspect to evenings that she had grown to love. On that note, she drove to the Rizzoli's house with the tires of her car safely snow-chained by the family chauffeur earlier that day.

She wasn't all that surprised to see Jane rolling around in the snow of the Rizzoli's lawn, but she was a little surprised to see a dog with her. It was a small thing yet appeared fully grown; for some reason, Maura had always imagined that if the Rizzoli's were to get a dog, it would be a big one, one that the kids could wrestle with. Still, Jane and the dog seemed to be having fun, and Maura's heart beat a little faster when Jane noticed her presence and smiled at her.

"Hey, Maura! Come say hi to the newest member of the family!"

Effortlessly scooping up the little dog, Jane brought her over to Maura, who smilingly patted her on the head. "Aww, she's sweet! What's her name?"

"Jo Friday, of course!" Jane said, absently rocking the dog a little.

"How fitting!" Maura laughed. "And you didn't mention your family was getting a dog!"

"Didn't know it until just today! The police department had a pretty bad plumbing problem, and my Pop was the only guy who was brave enough to try getting all the way over there in this bad weather. They paid him extra for it, and then one of the officers there had this dog he'd just found and said his apartment doesn't allow pets any bigger than a chickadee, and would Pop like to take him? Station detectives named her, of course."

"Well, how nice!"

"I'll say! I was—"

The front door banged open just then, admitting Angela onto the front porch, bundled up to the nines. She had not been terribly pleased with the surprise arrangement of Frank adopting a dog, but she had to admit it was nice to see Jane be cute with it. Walking down the porch steps, she cheerfully greeted Maura and said,

"Jane, I love seeing you with that cute, little dog! I don't know quite how to explain it, but seeing you be so cute with her make it so easy for me to see you acting like that with your babies one day!"

At the word "babies," Jane's smile evaporated and was replaced by a scowl. "Gross, Ma, don't say stuff like that, you'll ruin it!"

"Excuse me?" Angela balked. "Are you calling the sacred duty of motherhood _gross_?"

"I'm a kid, Ma, cut me a break!"

"You'll be eighteen in a month, Jane Clementine! Whether you like it or not, babies are going to be a part of your near future—why d'you have to be so against it? Oh, forget it," she said, waving her hand. "You'll feel different about 'em when they're your own."

"Not likely," Jane grumbled under her breath. Speaking a little louder, she said, "Ma, why don't you go back inside? Your teeth are chattering."

"I'll go get Tommy," Angela said. "I'm sure he'd love to know you're here, Maura."

As she turned and walked back into the house, Maura frowningly turned to Jane. There was a tacit mutual desire for Tommy to stay out of their time together. Recognizing that wish reflected in Maura's eyes, Jane grinned and ran down the shoveled path to the shed by the garage. Though slightly baffled, Maura followed her, then quickly realized Jane wanted to hide from Tommy. It felt distinctly juvenile, and yet, there was something enticing about that very aspect of it. Once Jane and Jo were safely inside, Maura hurried in after them and shut the door.

Standing on her toes, Maura was tall enough to peek out the shed's tiny window with Jane, both of them giggling a little conspiringly as Tommy came hurrying outside, quickly appearing confused. He jogged a few steps into the yard, looking up and down the street. By walking along the shoveled path, Jane and Maura had left no footprints, and Tommy was thrown. Maura's car was still parked in the driveway, but she was nowhere to be found. Naturally it didn't occur to him to check the shed, because what on earth would she be doing in there? After half-heartedly checking the back yard, he figured she and Jane must've gone on a walk, so he started heading down the sidewalk into town.

As soon as he was out of sight of the last streetlamp, Jane let out a full laugh, and Maura turned around to face her. Their quarters were by no means tight, but they had stayed very close together, Jo Friday really the only thing between them as Jane held her. It was cold enough to see their breath intermingling, an image that stirred Jane's stomach a bit.

"Hey, um…wanna get out of here?" Jane asked. "Wanna go for a walk?" When Maura smiled brightly at this suggestion, Jane quickly clarified, "For the dog, I mean. I was just about to take her when you drove up. Wanna come with?"

"I'd love to."

Jane reached for the leash (also a gift from Officer Korsak at BPD) that her father had hung in the shed, and hooked it around Jo's collar. Again silently reaching a mutual decision, the girls headed out in the opposite direction that Tommy had gone.

Under pretense of being cold, Maura hooked her arm through Jane's fairly early on, standing as close as she could without tripping as they walked. Jane, with her free ungloved hand in her coat pocket for warmth, did nothing to dissuade her from doing so. Walking alone like this on this wintry Boston night, Jane allowed herself to imagine an alternate universe where she and Maura were surrounded by other people: the types who would smile knowingly when she and Joey had walked hand in hand down public streets, who chuckled reminiscently together at seeing the cute young couple sharing a booth or a dance in a soda shop. Joey had never seemed to notice, but it always made Jane grimace a bit.

She found herself wishing they could pass an older couple who would see them like this and think "aww, how sweet." "Isn't there something so pure about young love like that?" "Why don't you look at me like that anymore, honey?"

As it transpired, Jo was not terribly fond of walking in the cold. She did her business fairly early on, and when she started to whimper, Jane thought (or hoped) that she was merely tired. There was a bench around the next corner, and Jane led them to it at a slightly faster pace.

"Here we go," she said, sitting down with Maura's arm still looped through hers. "Want to stop for a second, Jo? Catch your breath?"

"Catch your death of cold, more like," Maura said, unrepentantly nestling into Jane's side. She rested her head on Jane's shoulder and Jane in turn lay her cheek against Maura's forehead. "Aren't your hands freezing, Jane?"

"No way," Jane laughed, stretching out one leg. "Us Rizzoli's are a warm-blooded lot. Here, feel this."

She lay the back of her fingers against Maura's cheek, and Maura laughingly pulled back. "Liar! You're numb, aren't you?"

"What're you, a doctor?" Jane asked snidely, knowing that was a profession Maura had expressed some interest in.

"I'm as good as," was the lofty reply.

"Well then, warm me up, doc," Jane suggested, holding out her hand.

The best thing to do would be to rub it with both of her own hands, but that would require Maura to untwine her arm from Jane's and she didn't really care to do that. So she told Jane to make a fist, and then clasped her own gloved hand around it. She held it that way for nearly half a minute, and Jane found herself slowly getting warmer all over. Her skin felt about ready to burn when Maura slowly brought Jane's hand to her mouth, prodding open her fist and blowing a long, hot breath into Jane's palm. Jane was sure she herself had stopped breathing as Maura kept that up for several long moments. After five more passes, Maura dared to raise her eyes to meet Jane's.

There was want unmistakably reflected in those deep brown eyes. That _had _to be it. Jane was looking at her like she'd just found a drop of fresh water after years stranded at sea.

"Anywhere else?" Maura asked softly.

"Um, other hand?" Jane tried.

Although it meant having to reposition their arms, Maura didn't mind as much as she thought she would, happy just that Jane was allowing her to repeat the process at all. As she blew warmth into this palm, Jane's other hand curled into a fist in her pocket. Her toes curled inside her boots. Every nerve felt high-strung and taut, ready to snap if Maura did anything else.

Maura lightly kissed Jane's palm, and at the light contact, Jane's tense body relaxed in spite of the tiny, tense "ah" that came from out of her mouth.

It did not go unnoticed by Maura, who pulled away to look Jane in the eye. "Your cheeks are red," she observed.

Jane squirmed a little. "Yeah, I'm… they're cold."

Gently tilting Jane's jaw towards her, Maura leaned over and left a not-so-gentle kiss on Jane's cheek. This was not at all comparable to the brief, barely-there kisses on the cheek they had exchanged in the past: her lips were parted slightly at the outset as she breathed hard, compensating in a way for Jane's sharp inhale. With one hand on Jane's leg and the other at her shoulder, Maura sucked in slightly, and the smacking noise that came when she pulled away made Jane's skin prickle in anticipatory ecstasy. She barely had time to recover before Maura went in again, closer to Jane's mouth this time.

"Maura," Jane gasped when she pulled away a second time.

She turned to face Maura, and then Jo—who, unnoticed by either of them, had been whimpering this whole time—barked loudly. Both girls jumped, and Jane quickly looked down and noticed Jo was visibly shivering. The dog continued to yelp desperately, even when Jane leaned over to pick her up.

"Geez, I guess we better get her home, huh?" Jane asked. "I'm sorry, Jo! Heck of a good job I'm doing with you, huh?"

She got shakily to her feet and Maura sorrowfully followed suit, finding it difficult not to resent the dog for interrupting their moment. However, it was also hard to stay mad when it engendered an image as cute as Jane unzipping her jacket to fit Jo Friday inside. Zipping it back up and making certain that Jo was snugly secure, Jane held the bundle in place with one arm and extended her other hand to Maura.

"You can tell Ma about this, okay?" Jane said, as they started walking back to the Rizzoli house. For a wild moment, Maura had no idea which part of what'd just happened Jane was referring to. "I mean about me and Jo and apparently my future children. I almost let Jo freeze to death out here 'cause I got distracted!"

"So what would you like me to tell your mother, exactly? That you nearly let your charge die because you find me so terribly distracting?"

Jane couldn't help smiling. "Aw, shut up."

When they got back to the house, Frank was brushing some snow off the top of the car. Upon catching sight of him, Jane automatically dropped Maura's hand.

"Hi, kids!" Frank greeted them. "How's the pup?"

"She's okay," Jane said. "Just a little cold, I think."

"Let's get her inside, huh? Maybe she's thirsty after her walk," Frank said, leading the way back into the house. "And hey, you must be Maura, right?"

"Um, yes sir," Maura said uncomfortably. They had met before, at a pool hall, but apparently Frank had been a bit too tipsy to remember her.

He held the door open for the girls. "Well, I've heard nothing but wonderful things! You've got a lot of fans in this house, that's for sure! Would you like to stay for supper? I'm sure Jane and Tommy would love it."

"Yeah, you could sleep over," Jane said, letting Jo down on the floor. "If it was all right with your folks, I mean."

"Jane, we've got mass in the morning," Angela reminded her. "So unless Maura wouldn't mind coming along to our congregation—"

"Say, you live by the Fairfields, right?" Frank asked, unbuttoning his coat. "Which church is that down there—St. John and Paul's? That where you go?"

"Er…no, sir," Maura said meekly. "I'm not Catholic."

"Oh," he said lightly. "Hey, that's all right, we welcome all kinds here! Presbyterian, Episcopalian?"

Jane realized where this was going to end up, and she started getting nervous as Maura's cheeks reddened with more than just the cold. "I'm… we're… actually not members of the Christian religion."

Frank slowly hung up his coat, and now looked a little less chipper as he rested his hands on his hips and looked searchingly at Maura. "You Jewish? You don't look like a Jew."

"_Frank!_" Angela hissed.

"What? I don't have a problem with Jews. They're devout people."

"We aren't Jewish," Maura said, visibly uncomfortable.

"You belong to any kind of religion at all?"

"No, sir." Her voice was faint in light of the incredulity on his face, and she hurriedly tried to redeem herself: "But I have so much respect for people who do! It's such a commitment, and shows so many wonderful qualities, like… loyalty, and devotion, and …intelligence! My father always said you'd be hard-pressed to find a man more hard-working or word-driven than a monk!"

"That so," Frank muttered. "Well, it's suppertime, and your father's probably wondering where you are, Maura. Jane, go help your mother finish getting ours ready."

Without another word, Frank turned on his heel and walked into the living room. Angela looked apologetically at Maura, but felt it wasn't her place to try and undermine her husband's authority in front of her daughter and her friend. Beckoning for Jane, she headed into the kitchen.

"I'll call you tonight, okay?" Jane said in a hushed voice, taking Maura's hand between her own. "I don't care if you don't go to church, Maura, don't worry. You're still my number one."

Maura smiled weakly back and squeezed Jane's hand. "I'll wait for that call, then."

* * *

**A/N**: And so, Maura gets incrementally bolder in her attempts to secure her understanding of Jane's feelings towards her. That conversation with Constance came sooner than I had originally planned, but I'm looking forward to navigating my way through all this. Hope it worked for you all, too.


	23. The Girl Can't Help It

"Frank, you are overreacting."

"Like hell I am! That girl's already got one of my sons wrapped around her finger, and she's stringing him along, to boot! And lately the way Jane's been talking about her, you'd think she thought that kid—well, walked on water!"

"Frank! You said yourself you were glad that Jane finally had a good girl friend!"

"I don't want my kids spending more time than they have to with a kid who hasn't been brought up to believe she's accountable for anything, that's she's not accountable to anyone! If her parents don't care about giving her morals and standards to uphold, all right, that's on them! But it's _our _responsibility, Angela, to make sure that _our _kids spend time with people who are going to influence them for good."

"Maura Isles _is_ a good kid, Frank! She's polite, she's sweet, she's not _stringing Tommy along! _Tommy just hasn't gotten the nerve to ask her out yet, that's all!"

"Don't blame this on my boy, Ange, I know that kid's type!"

"Her _type?_"

"Yeah! She's high class, what's she doing slumming around with our kids? Probably likes to lord it over them and give her fancy, rich pals something to laugh about."

"So you're prejudiced against her because she's from money? Why haven't you got a problem with Tommy's best friend being a Fairfield?"

"The Fairfields are good, God-fearing people! I know that when Tommy's at their house, he's surrounded by good influences and a moralistic mother! Didn't you say Maura's mother was a painter?"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Painters are freaks, Angela, you know that! All those so-called tortured artists… they're radicals, beatniks, they do nothing to contribute to our society. Bottom-feeders, all of 'em."

"Is that what you think of me, Frank? I'm an artist too, you know."

"Ange, I don't care what Carla Tollucci tells you, you can't paint for crap," Frank sneered. "That stuff you do? That ain't art. That class is a hobby, you don't try to make a living off of it. I don't like the idea of Jane running around with some kid who doesn't feel like she's got anyone to answer to."

"Do you even know your own daughter, Frank? There is no way in heaven or in hell that she would do anything she didn't want to! She can't be influenced by anything permanently, not a thing! If she could, do you think she'd give us so much trouble? Do you think she'd go running around like one of the boys? So help me, I'm not going to let you stop her from spending time with the one well-adjusted friend she's got!"

"Well-adjusted?! You think a kid with no belief in a higher power is _well-adjusted?_"

Angela laughed incredulously. "Frank! You only just met her, you don't know anything about her!"

"I know enough!"

"Frank listen to me! _I'm _the one who's around all day with our kids. _I'm _the one who gives them a nice place to come home to and good meals to eat. You're a wonderful provider, but you're not around them as much as I am. You don't see the changes they go through like I do. But haven't you noticed? Haven't you noticed how much more patient Jane's gotten since she and Maura became friends? Maybe she's still a little high-maintenance, but she's calmer around Tommy. She doesn't talk back as much. She hasn't gotten into any trouble at school! Don't see what a miracle this is, Frank? God bless Maura for all she's done!"

There was silence for a moment. When he spoke again, Frank's voice sounded marginally less upset. "She could finally just be maturing," he argued.

"Well if she is, I think Maura's responsible for helping. Don't you think it makes me sad that she hasn't got a religion to cling to, Frank? Sure it does. But her mother told me she's never had an easy time of making friends, either, and I know she and Jane are good for each other. You aren't seriously considering banning her from this house are you?"

"Geez, Ange, don't make it sound so dramatic."

"_I'm _making you sound dramatic? Weren't you just stomping around the room a second ago saying you didn't want her spending any more time with Tommy and Jane outside of school? Tommy's still a little young, I know, but… don't you trust Jane enough to stand her ground? At heart she's a good kid, I know that. I thought you trusted her, Frank."

"I do."

"You don't. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

His voice was quieter, and Tommy, listening outside their closed door, had to strain to hear: "Just upsets me, that's all. People like the Isles. They've got the status and the money, and they lose their humility—makes 'em think their kids don't owe a thing to anybody. They worship their dollars over God."

"Frank, Jane didn't tell you this because she's too proud, but you know that job interview she finally landed at the Skylark Club? She got it because the Isles put in a good word for her!"

"Now who's the one underestimating our children? You think Jane couldn't get an interview at that swanky popsicle stand without inside help?"

"I'm just telling you what she said! Whether the Isles would call it that or not, I think it's a fine example of Christian charity. Maura Isles does not worship the devil, and she is not a bad kid. I swear, Frank, you better let her stick around."

"Or what?"

"Don't test me."

A loud silence followed this statement, and then Tommy heard footsteps coming towards the door. He quickly scrambled back to his room and made it there in time before Frank came into the hallway. Heart beating fast, Tommy stayed silent as Frank trudged down the stairs and out the front door.

While all this had been going on, Jane had been on the phone in the kitchen, calling Maura as promised.

"I'm sorry about my dad," Jane muttered. "He's just very, um…I mean, he shouldn't have been so rude just 'cause you don't, um…"

"It's all right, Jane. I'm accustomed to averse reactions from devout people when I tell them I belong to no faith. It's unfortunate and feels a little unfair, as I principally have no similar aversion to them, but there you have it."

"_I _don't hold it against you," Jane said, though she'd already expressed the sentiment. "Heck, you're lucky! Not getting dragged to church every Sunday, going to confession? Sounds pretty swell to me."

"I suppose it has its benefits," Maura said with a shrug. She sounded tired, and Jane didn't speak for a moment. "What are you doing tomorrow after mass, Jane?"

"Working."

"You got the job at the Skylark?! Congratulations!"

"No, it's um, something else. Something for one of my mom's friends. Nothing very interesting, I promise."

"Interesting or not, you're my friend and I want to know."

"Uh…mm… well, I guess she—my mom's friend, Carla—just got hired to do some promotional posters for Larrabee's sportswear. The ads aren't due till _March_, but I guess with all the recreational art classes she teaches, she wants to make sure she's got plenty of time to work. So I'm gonna, um… I'm gonna be wearing some stuff, some sports gear, and she's gonna take some photos. That way she can use the pictures for reference, and I won't have to stand around in her studio for—oh, _shut up!_"

Maura couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry, I just thought you'd intimated that modeling was one of the last things you wanted to do?"

"This ain't like going down a runway," Jane huffed. "Or dressing up for a bunch of rich people's amusement. I'm helping out Ma's friend, which means I'm getting in good with Ma and I'm also getting overpaid."

"Oh, well that's nice, then."

"Yeah. It is."

"…I don't suppose I could come?"

Jane blushed and shifted on her seat. "Why'd you wanna do that? You get a kick out of seeing me uncomfortable?"

"_Au contraire_, Jane, I'd think you would be quite in your element in sportswear."

"Har, har. That's not fair coming from the girl who always looks like she's ready to be in a photo-shoot!"

Maura chuckled into the phone, and Jane couldn't help grinning, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Well! If I was going to be in a photo-shoot right now, I think it would have to be for a fairly risqué publication."

"A…" Jane unconsciously lowered her voice as a precautionary tactic. "What're you wearing?"

"I was in the middle of getting undressed when you called," Maura answered matter-of-factly. "Lest you think I wouldn't pick up, I decided not to risk missing you by trying to get my nightgown on first, so I'm lying on my bed in just my panties, and… bra." She paused, and heard exactly one shallow breath from Jane's side of the line. "Actually, if you want to be technical, one of the straps is down my arm."

Jane licked her lips and swallowed hard, and though they both sounded loud as canons to her, she was grateful that they were inaudible for Maura. Although she'd likely wonder why it was taking Jane so long to reply. _Form your words. Words! Make them! Say them! _But it was hard to conjure anything remotely appropriate when she had intentionally been given the mental image of Maura Isles lying in bed in only her undergarments, one bra strap off her shoulder.

"You're…is this a habit of yours?" she finally managed.

"What, getting changed at night? Yes."

"No, I mean, I talked to you once a couple months ago on the phone and you said you'd just been about to get in the shower, so you were only wearing …a towel."

"That's an odd thing to remember," Maura teased her.

"No it's not! I was—who answers the phone naked?!"

"_I_ do, apparently." Jane just laughed, having no idea how to respond to that verbally (and safely), and once her chuckling died out, Maura decided to be nice and change the subject. "You didn't ask about my last date with Garrett."

Jane sounded a little stiff now. "Oh, sorry. You didn't mention it, so…"

"I was waiting for you to inquire about it." She waited for a response in vain, having no access to the annoyed response Jane had bit back (_why? So I could hear you go on about what a nice time you had, what a great date he was? So I could hear how it went if you kissed him? Please, tell me you haven't kissed him_). "Jane? I'm not Emily."

That stirred Jane out of her selfish reverie. "Hm?"

"I'm not like Emily. I value my relationship with you more than I value my relationship with anyone else." Jane's heartbeat started picking up, invigorated by the knowledge that Maura could not lie or exaggerate. Maura absently started to stroke her stomach. "I thought of you nearly the whole time I was with him."

Jane tried not to sound to eager, and resultantly her voice came out a little deeper than usual. "Really?"

Maura shivered, sliding one finger into her navel. Her leg twitched accordingly. "Yes. Like I said, he's not entirely what you might call a jerk or even a bore, he's just …he's not you." This was as plain as she dared get without coming right out and telling Jane how she felt. "I have more fun when I'm with you."

"So do I," Jane said fervently. "Are you gonna go out with him again, though?"

The short silence before Maura's answer was agonizing, both of them wishing they could see the other's face. Maura bit her thumb nail. "I'm not sure. Possibly. So far he seems the best candidate for an escort to my debutante ball, and that's not until the spring. I need to keep in his good graces until then if I want him to go with me."

Jane didn't think she'd be able to tolerate Maura and Garrett dating for that long. "Well can't you just go as friends? Why do you gotta keep going on dates?"

"Well…boys expect something, don't they?"

"Geez, Maura, don't _you _go talking like that," Jane moaned. "How come we have to make our whole lives revolve around what guys think about us, huh? Aren't we people, too? You should've seen my parents' faces when I told 'em that I dumped Joey. Sure they were probably angry because I lied about it at first, but whose fault is it that I didn't feel like I could be upfront from the start? I knew my Ma would be disappointed, but I still didn't think Pop would slap me."

"I know," Maura said mournfully, having heard about his reaction already. "And I'm so sorry about that, Jane. He shouldn't have done that."

"Never crossed my mind he'd even try doing something like that to me," Jane mumbled. "We're close, we've always been close. And if he was gonna slap me for something, I'd like it to have at least been for someone worthwhile."

"You're envisioning a scenario where that might happen?" Maura asked blankly.

Jane let out a shaky breath. "Well, sure. If Pop keeps acting cold to you on account of the fact that you're not affiliated with any church, and if he doesn't want you around but I tell him I do, I'll take a slap for you. Hell, I'll take a beating."

It was a strange sensation, feeling as though your heart was being broken and expanded and melted all at once. Where did it all go? "I'm touched by your devotion, Jane, but I sincerely hope it doesn't come to that point."

"Well, to be honest, neither do I. I was just saying."

"Just…saying what?"

"_Really_, Maura?"

"What? 'I was just saying' is an incomplete sentence!"

"I hate it when you correct me."

"Well I hate it when you forget about Mr. Grammar!"

"Okay, you know what?" Jane laughed. "Good night!"

Maura giggled, and Jane felt her heart take another leap. "Are you really going to hang up on me just for that?"

"No, but I gotta go," Jane said ruefully. "It's lights out in about two minutes, so I better get back upstairs."

"Oh, all right. I'll see you at school, Jane!"

"Yeah, see you then."

"Kiss Jo Friday good night for me, will you?"

"Sure, and you kiss … er… yourself?" Jane tried. Maura just laughed. "Well you haven't got a pet, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Shall I go kiss myself in the mirror for you?"

It sounded sort of weird when she put it that way. "Um…if… you want to?"

"I'll leave you in suspense, then. Good night!"

"G'night."

Maura hung the phone up and followed the cord back to the table by her dresser. She'd had every intention of putting on a nightdress, but after talking to Jane, she felt too warm to put on any more layers. She flopped back onto her bed, slipping partway under the sheets. Her thoughts swirled around the words of Kinsey, read from a book she couldn't help wondering if her mother had purposefully edged out on the top shelf of the library.

"_Females in their heterosexual relationships are actually more __likely to prefer techniques which are closer to those which are commonly utilized in homosexual relationships…"_

_Techniques, _Maura wondered, idly stroking her stomach again. What exactly were those techniques? She brushed one hand up towards her breast, closing her eyes and leaning back into her pillow.

"…_They would prefer a considerable amount of generalized emotional stimulation before there is any specific sexual contact…"_

Maura's mind drifted back to her telephone conversation with Jane. In particular: the sweet, protective tone she had spoken with. The way she had promised to stand up for Maura against her father if necessary. The tinge of jealousy that could _not _have been imagined, when they had discussed Garrett. She squirmed and closed her eyes harder, and soon she was hearing Jane's voice saying all sorts of "emotionally stimulating" things to her—

"Ditch Fairfield. Come be with me. _Be _with me, Maura." "Forget him. He even looks at you again? I'll kick him off a cliff." "Run away with me." "I'm in love with you." "I want to kiss you." "I want to hold you." "I just want to be yours."

And what else had Kinsey posited about homosexual women?

"…_They usually want physical stimulation of the whole body before there is any specific genital contact..._"

Maura felt the familiar ache between her legs rise up, but she resisted the urge to go there. She had never been one to pretend or fantasize about anything, even as a young child, but Jane had changed a lot about her. It was surprisingly easy to keep her eyes closed and imagine that her own hands were actually Jane's, stimulating the rest of her body.

Those were Jane's long, slender fingers running through her hair, while her other hand rested on Maura's stomach. Jane's hands moved slowly down Maura's body, coming to rest at her hips, then stroking small circles on her abdomen. One of Jane's hands trailed upwards, her thumb brushing the underside of one of Maura's breasts. Maura couldn't contain a whimper, and Jane gently pressed her fingers to Maura's lips to quiet her. Maura parted her lips and sucked on Jane's index finger, swirling her tongue around it while her own finger dipped once again into her navel—and once again, her hips bucked up of their own accord. One hand started massaging a gentle circle on Maura's thigh, the nails of the other digging into the flesh of Maura's shoulder, and she whimpered again.

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes, and that shattered the fantasy.

Alone. She was alone.

Jane's touch, she could _almost _get away with imagining. But there was no way for her to truly mimic what a kiss from Jane would feel like. She licked her lips and tried to at least summon an idea of what it might be like—dominating? Would her lips be chapped?—but that was nowhere near satisfying enough. All Maura could do was hope beyond hope that one day, she would get to know for sure.

* * *

It had been a few days since Maura's emotional outburst to her mother, and they had yet to touch on the subject again. Being open with each other and discussing things just wasn't something they were accustomed to doing. To Maura's disappointment, the adult figure in this scenario didn't seem any more sure of how to smoothly bring up the topic again or what to say, which led to one awkward encounter after the next.

As it was Sunday, her father was home, and reading the paper at the breakfast table. Maura came down to see him reading the sports pages and her mother the arts, and they both greeted her as she sat down. Constance's gaze lingered on Maura a little longer than Desmond's, but when Maura caught her eye, the girl blushed and looked quickly away.

Wasn't this a luxury every teenage girl was supposed to have with her mother? Gab about who she liked, asked for motherly advice about what steps to take? She had broached it in tears already, but not gotten very in depth. Though she was profoundly grateful that Constance understood how she felt and didn't want to send her to counseling, Maura still couldn't bring herself to ask for help with Jane.

She'd wondered what Constance had thought when Garrett had come to take her out for dinner. Did her mother pity her? Was she perhaps relieved that Maura seemed open to dating boys? Did she truly have any idea how _desperately _Maura wished Jane Rizzoli could be her escort to that debutante ball?

_ Oh, Jane in a tailored tuxedo…_

"Maura. Maura!"

Maura jumped when she realized her father was trying to get her attention. "Yes?"

"Are you all right? You looked like you were having a daydream!" he laughed.

"I suppose I was, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I just thought I'd ask what your plans were for today."

"I'd planned on meeting Jane after she gets out of church."

"Well, that sounds nice!" Constance said. "What will you do?"

Maura shrugged uncomfortably, though she knew her mother's question had been innocent. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Well!" Desmond said brightly. "If you'd like a more concrete plan—and this is just an offer, mind you—the Fairfield's had mentioned the possibility of getting in some cross country skiing after mass! How about it?"

"I'm not particularly fond of skiing, father, but thank you anyway."

The truth was, of course, that she had no set plans with Jane and Jane had no idea that Maura intended to find her today. As soon as morning mass was over, Angela did not dawdle as she usually did to catch up with her friends; she hurried the family to the car so that she could Jane to the studio where Carla worked in a timely manner. Once home, she fussed over Jane's makeup (or lack thereof), but Jane waved her off by saying that wouldn't be important for these kinds of photographs. Carla just needed to capture the body language so she could paint it later. The props and outfits would be provided.

On the drive over, Angela dropped many not-so-subtle hints that she'd love to sit in on the session, but Jane flatly cut her down. She promised to call as soon as she needed to get picked up.

Carla greeted her as soon as she walked in, and Jane just grit her teeth and smiled. Dressed in black stockings and a leopard-print top, Carla still managed to be louder than her clothes. Really, it wasn't a wonder that she and Angela were such good friends: Jane had never heard anyone who could talk at more words a minute than either of them. Walking up a flight of stairs, Jane had already started tuning Carla out, trying to focus on the money she was going to make for putting up with all of this. They came to an abrupt stop outside a small door, and Carla disappeared inside of it, still yammering. Ultimately she reappeared with a tennis racket in hand, which she promptly thrust at Jane.

"You play tennis, kid? I never can keep it straight!"

"A bit, I guess," Jane said, twirling the racket restlessly in her hand.

"Swell! We'll start with that, then. I just need to get your costume from down the hall—would you like to come with, or stick out here?"

"Oh, I'll just wait here, thanks."

Carla smiled and winked. "All right, partner! Back in a jiff!"

She bustled down the hallway and into another room, finally leaving Jane to feel like she could take a deep breath. Carla had only just disappeared, though, when her spot was taken by someone else.

"Well, what a small world! Jane Rizzoli?"

Jane whipped around, one hand firm on the handle of the tennis racket, to see Roxie smiling—leering?—at her. "Mrs. del Rossi! What're you doing here?"

"Oh, aren't you cute!" she laughed, shaking her head of platinum blonde hair. "Mrs. del Rossi is my mother-in-law, sweetcakes. You can just call me Roxie."

Glancing down the hall, Jane asked, "Is Roxie your real name?"

"Of course it is, honey! Fittin', don't you think?"

"Uh, sure. What're you doing here, you a model?" She certainly fit the part: she was wearing tiny shorts that let her legs go on for miles, and the tightness of her sweater showed off other assets, as well.

"You bet. I was just on my way out for the day, though. You starting here? You've certainly got the legs for it."

"I'm—um—no, I'm just, uh… doing some shots for a friend's mother. Um, my mother's friend." As she talked, she anxiously moved the tennis racket from hand to hand, and she noticed that Roxie seemed transfixed by the back-and-forth movement. Jane nervously bit her lip and stopped, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the racket again. "Why're you so interested in my racket?"

"I don't know; why're you so interested in my rack?" Roxie calmly countered.

Jane's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

Roxie reached for Jane's free hand, and Jane was too stunned to pull it away. "I think you heard me, honey," she said in a low voice. "Mmmm…" She trailed her thumb down Jane's fingers. "You said weren't dating anyone, right? It's a shame. Those fingers are going to waste."

"My fingers?" Jane asked, looking clueless.

The remark itself threw her, but she was more confused by the fact that Roxie was being so frank in a public place, and apparently sober. What Jane had been telling herself was a tipsy come-on in the privacy of someone's bathroom had to have been a one-time thing. Or maybe she'd misread it. But this? Was there any chance Roxie was at all tipsy right now?

Or maybe she didn't really care. No one else was in the hall anyway.

"What're you doing?" Jane asked abruptly, pulling her hand free from Roxie's loose grip.

Roxie just smirked at her, taking a step away. "Welcome to the grown-up world, Jane." She needlessly tweaked her wedding ring, having noticed that Jane had been eying it as if it were proof of her active interest in men. "Not everything's at it seems."

* * *

**A/N**: So... in my original plan for this story, no character like Roxie existed. But with my new (ultimately happier) arc in mind, I decided I needed somebody like her. So she'll pop up again eventually. The first time she showed up, some of you had expressed disappointment but also relief that she hadn't made more of an actual move on Jane in that bathroom. **Rest assured**: Jane's first (girl) kiss will be Maura.  
(Also I mentioned this before, but it's probably worth saying again: Roxie is 20 years old.)


	24. Trying to Get to You

**A/N**: Okay, so I just want to give everyone a quick reminder to check the secondary genre on this story. **Angst**. This journey is not going to be a smooth one. Please keep that in mind, but also trust me when I say that things will end well. I kind of pushed it with this chapter- a kiss is coming soon.

* * *

Once outside the building, Roxie struck a match and lit up a cigarette. A man passing by raised his eyebrows and smiled, but she lazily pointed her ring finger at him and headed in the opposite direction. The only thing on her mind right now was that poor kid, Jane Rizzoli. Clearly she didn't understand what all she was missing by lying to herself. _Someday she'll thank me for this. _

She soon found herself being stopped by an anxious-looking girl in jeans, Chucks, and a t-shirt. "Please, can you help me?" she asked.

Roxie took a regal puff on her cigarette. "Sure, honey, what d'you need?"

Quickly consulting a small slip of paper, the girl said, "I'm trying to find the Fox-Merriman Photography Studio?"

"It's your lucky day, sweetheart, I happen to work there."

"Oh." The girl's eyes roved over Roxie's body. _Not particularly subtle… _"I don't suppose you're a photographer?"

Roxie just laughed and turned on her heel, beckoning for the girl to follow her. "Not quite. What brings you to the studio?"

"I thought I'd surprise a friend of mine," the girl said brightly. "She's never done any modeling before, and today's her first day, and I think it might help her to have a friendly familiar face around."

"Yeah? Who's your friend? Maybe I met her today."

"Jane Rizzoli."

Roxie had guessed as much, and couldn't help laughing at the hopeful lilt in the girl's voice. Not laughing _at _her, really, just sort of laughing at how cute her face looked right now. Her admiration for Jane was shining through every inch of her expression. Admiration and… something else, probably.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Maura. Maura Isles."

"Well, Maura Isles, it so happens that I've had the pleasure of meeting Jane a couple of times now. My husband's a friend of her father's, or at least they were close during the war. You two are pals, huh?"

"She's a couple years ahead of me in school, but we're friends, yes," Maura replied, happily falling into step next to Roxie. "She's wonderful, don't you think?"

"Well kid, I can't really say," Roxie laughed. "Like I said, I've only had the pleasure twice, now." She smirked and glanced sidelong at Maura. "You think she's somethin', huh?"

"Oh, she's wonderful," Maura gushed, a bit of an unconscious skip in her step. "I've never had a more loyal, kinder, protective friend. She's awfully sweet."

"You must be someone special," Roxie said. "Jane seemed like she had a bit of a short fuse when I met her."

Maura was torn between wanting to defend Jane and wanting to delight in the truth that she was, in fact, an exception. It was true that Jane could be harsh and off-putting to people she didn't know (heck, she'd been that way to Maura at first); most people received snide remarks or barbed insults instead of the flattery she so freely poured upon Maura. More than any of her earthly possessions, Maura treasured being one of the only people who got to see Jane's soft side. She adored being the sole recipient of Jane's full, sincere affection.

She had never been described as being "special" to someone before.

_Oh, you poor, sweet, kid_, Roxie thought. _You are one smitten kitten!_

They had reached the front door of the studio, where they were met by a steely-eyed, dark-haired beauty and Roxie's jaw nearly dropped. "Mother!" Maura said brightly. "Found a decent parking spot?"

"Decent enough, I suppose. Thank you so much for waiting for me."

"I'm sorry, I was just eager to get going," Maura said shyly. "Oh! Mother, this is, uh…"

"Roxie del Rossi," said the platinum blonde, eagerly shaking Constance's hand.

"Mm. Constance Isles."

Roxie's electric blue eyes shot wide open. "_The _Constance Isles?"

Constance looked impressed. "You've heard of me."

"Of course!"

"Not many people stateside have, outside of the art circuit. Are you an artist, Mrs. del Rossi?"

"Um…no, but I had a roommate at Smith who thought you were a bona fide genius," Roxie answered, smiling a bit devilishly. "She introduced me to quite a bit of your work. It was very intriguing." And oh, what a treat it was to see what the woman behind that artwork _looked _like.

Roxie might have seriously considered asking for an autograph in a rather inappropriate place if the woman's daughter hadn't been standing right there. As it was, Constance said they needed to be on their way, and bidding Roxie farewell, the two Isles ladies walked regally into the photography studio.

Once getting a clearer understanding of what Maura had wanted to do that day, Constance had suggested that it might be difficult to get permission to sit in on a professional photography session—especially at the studio Maura had learned Carla Tollucci liked to work out of. In an effort to make it easier for Maura to spend some time with Jane, Constance had offered to go along and use her somewhat well-known name to try and impress Carla into letting them sit in on the session. Maura had excitedly taken her up on the offer, grateful that it seemed to prove Constance wasn't trying to ignore the conversation they had had about Maura's crush. It was her roundabout way of trying to help Maura where she could.

When they finally entered the room Carla was using, Constance's first thought was that the set-up wasn't terribly professional: there was no backdrop, one light stand, and just one assistant. Clearly none of that mattered to her daughter, though, who Constance noticed had clamped her lips together at the sight of Jane in her outfit: a tight long-sleeved sweater, short tennis skirt, and long socks. Her tennis racket clattered to the ground the moment she realized who had just walked in.

Carla was prepared to snap, but she instantly recognized Constance Isles—one of the few artists she actually worshipped—and swept her away to interrogate her about her life, vaguely leaving her assistant with some instructions about Jane before stepping into the hall with Constance. For her part, Constance just glanced over her shoulder at Maura, raising her eyebrows as if to say "_dear God, you are WELCOME, child_."

"Maura, what're you doing here?" Jane asked, squirming as she pulled at the hem of her skirt, vainly trying to lengthen it.

"I said I'm come to see you," she said brightly. "Don't let me throw off your concentration."

"You're… you look really cute," Jane said, sounding a little surprised. "Uh, why're you dressed like that?"

"Don't you remember?" Maura asked, sticking her hands into denim pockets and grinning impishly. "When you wore a dress to my house for dinner to meet my parents, you said you wanted to see _me _dress like _you _for a day. How'd I do?"

The bottom of her button-up shirt was tied into a knot, replicating a style she'd seen on several girls, including Jane. Jane was currently fixated on the view of Maura's midriff, slightly unsettled when she looked up to see Maura's perky expression.

"Like I said," she muttered. "Really cute." She cleared her throat awkwardly, striking a pose with her tennis racket. "How about me?"

"Oh, very professional," Maura chuckled.

Jane slackened and laughed. "I mean, really? Who plays tennis in knee-high socks?" Jane snorted, still fumbling uncomfortably with her skirt.

"It's called artistic license," Maura said. She turned to the photographer. "Right?"

"Sure," he said. "Hey, kid. You familiar with Philippe Halsman's work?"

"No," Jane said flatly at the same time that Maura said, "of course!"

"Great! Because I just got a brainwave," he said, opening up much more now that Carla had stepped out. "One of the outfits we need you to model is a two-piece bathing suit—"

"Whoa, slow your roll there! What?"

"—but do you know that Halsman portrait of Marilyn Monroe lifting weights?"

"In a bikini top and jeans?" Maura asked. "Of course!" She turned excitedly to Jane. "How about it? I think if anyone could manage to make weight-lifting look glamorous, it would be you."

"Yeah, or Marilyn Monroe," Jane said, anxiously twirling the tennis racket from hand to hand. But the look in Maura's eyes was undeniably hungry, and Jane couldn't help feeling extremely turned on by it, nervous as it made her. _Is she really looking at __me__ like that? _"Uh… well …I guess if it's a pose Carla wants…"

The assistant waved his hand dismissively. "If Constance Isles' daughter approved, I'm sure Carla will have no problem with it. I'll get the weights, kid, you just go ahead and change."

In order to reach the room of costumes, Jane and Maura had to walk down the hallway that Carla and Constance were currently talking in. As she listened to Carla ramble on and on about her artistic vision, Constance looked very much like someone who was struggling to keep awake, her polite smile long gone. But Carla, utterly wrapped up in describing herself to a highly-respected artist, totally failed to notice that she had long lost said artist's attention. Constance kept shooting glances to the nearby window, entertaining the notion of jumping out and weighing the possibility that falling from the second story of the building could do some serious damage.

But then she caught sight of Maura's expression as the girls walked by, and while Jane appeared slightly confused by Constance's presence, Maura grinned in excitement and flashed her a thumbs-up. Constance smiled and looked down at the ground.

Once shut into the tiny costuming room, Jane realized, "Hang on. I don't see any jeans, do you? I mean, I guess they aren't exactly sportswear, which is what this session is supposed to be about…"

"Oh, I'd assumed you'd worn some here," Maura said.

"No, I came right from church," Jane answered, nodding at the dress hanging in the corner.

"Um…" Maura's imagination briefly wrapped itself around an image of Jane yanking open her jeans, pushing her against a wall. "You could wear mine?" she suggested hopefully.

Jane's mind was overtaken by a very similar image, and her eyes raked down Maura's figure. "Uh." She cleared her throat, which felt very dry all of a sudden. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Your legs are shorter than mine, and your figure's a lot, um, nicer than mine."

"Nicer?" Maura giggled. "Is that your way of saying my hips are wider than yours?"

"Well, they are!" Jane laughed. "I mean, people look at you and they know it's a girl under all that. I'm all… skinny rails."

"Oh, come on."

Jane bit her lip, maintaining eye contact as she put her hands on Maura's hips, pulling her in until their bodies came up right together. Maura gasped and fidgeted a little (unconsciously—at first—trying to get one leg between Jane's), but Jane held her steady. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, giving Maura's hips a little tug even though she could not physically be closer. Jane bit her cheek and flattened her palms, slowly pulling them back towards herself. There was a small distance between each hand and her own hips, indicating that Maura's were indeed wider.

"See?" Jane whispered. "You've got more of a Marilyn figure than me. Objectively speaking, you're sexier than I am."

"No," Maura quickly disagreed. "Jane, you are really, _really_ sexy."

Jane's eyebrows shot up. "I'm what?" She knew she hadn't misheard. She just wanted more than anything to hear Maura direct that word at her again.

But Maura sounded a little shyer as she said it now, her voice quieter. "Sexy."

"_You _think _I'm_ sexy."

"Gosh, Jane, can't you just take a compliment without teasing me?" Maura huffed, starting to turn red.

For lack of a proper response, Jane decided to act instead. She moved her hands to the bottom of her sweater, arms crossing, and raised the garment up over her face. Maura's jaw dropped and she took a small step back at the sight of Jane in nothing but a short skirt and her bra. Jane was terrified, but her fear made her all the more determined to put on a brave face—no; _more _than a brave face. A face that was breezily confident, not ashamed, and so unquestionably comfortable at the prospect of being half-dressed in front of this strikingly beautiful girl. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, Jane got on one knee to pull off her shoes and the lengthy socks. Maura continued to unabashedly gape, much to Jane's delight …and terror. It was an odd feeling, having those two emotions fighting for control in her gut. Odd, and definitely physically painful.

"Well?" Jane said, straightening up. "Are you going to help or what?"

"Help you… what?" Maura asked blankly.

"Take off your jeans. I'm gonna borrow 'em."

"But—you just said they wouldn't fit you."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. I wanna try first."

_Stop staring, stop staring, stop staring, stop staring, stop staring! _Maura thought, but her eyes kept darting back to Jane's chest, then her abs, then her legs and back again. And while Jane just stood there with her fists at her hips and a cocky grin on her face, she hated that it was all a charade. She wasn't cool about this, not at all. Trying to make Maura flustered was something Roxie would do, and Jane didn't want to be like that—did she? No, she didn't. Maybe Maura was just modest. That was probably it. Of course a classy girl like Maura wouldn't be

comfortable stripping down alone together in a tiny room like this. Yeah. That had to be it.

"Maybe you shouldn't go with jeans," Maura finally said. "That might be too much like Halsman's photograph."

"You _do _remember Carla's not actually a photographer, right?" Jane said. "She's just taking this pictures as a reference for her drawings. Er, paintings."

"Still. What if you wore these um…"

"Those are for basketball," Jane snickered, taking the shorts out of Maura's hands. "Now you're welcome to watch, but just so y'know, I'm about to get all natural in here."

Maura gulped and turned slowly on her heel, staring at the wall. "I think the phrase you meant was _au naturel_," she said, as Jane continued to undress. "It's French in origin, of course, meaning 'in the natural state.' Actually, as it was coined in the early 1800s, it was intended to refer to something that was uncooked, but these day's it's used euphemistically to mean 'undressed.'"

"You don't say," Jane muttered, pulling on the top half of the two-piece swimsuit hanging next to her.

Her stomach still felt wildly unsettled. Though she was never entirely naked at one point through all of this, there was something thrilling about the act of removing her clothes when Maura was so close to her. The possibility that Maura might change her mind and turn around at any given moment was in turns exciting and petrifying_—_but rather than let the fear stifle her, Jane had decided to go with it, trying to ready herself to handle whatever might happen. Once in the knee-length basketball shorts and the top half of the swimsuit, Jane cleared her throat and told Maura she was safe to turn around.

"_Oh_," Maura gasped, almost silently. Her eyes had gone instantly for Jane's abs the moment she'd turned around, and for some reason it was harder now than ever to tear her eyes away.

"I feel kinda silly," Jane admitted, tugging needlessly at the strap of the suit top.

"You shouldn't," Maura told her, finally meeting her eyes. "You look incredible."

"Not sexy anymore, huh?" Jane teased her.

"I thought that went without saying."

"Well, maybe technically it does," Jane said, taking a step closer. "That doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you say it, though. C'mon."

She got so close that Maura instinctively put up a hand to keep her from coming any nearer, and her fingertips brushed against Jane's abdomen. They both shivered, but Maura did not withdraw, instead smoothing the top of her palm across Jane's skin. It was winter. Jane was barely dressed, and this room was barely heated. Glancing down at Jane's breasts, it was quite evident that the thin material covering them was no match for the cold. Maura's breath caught in her throat, helping to stifle a whimper. Finally she caught Jane's eye, and instantly she felt intoxicated by the way Jane was looking at her, breathing shallowly.

"God, Jane," she whispered. "You're so sexy."

"Baby, I know," Jane replied coolly.

The response took Jane by surprise as much as it did Maura, who wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting, but Jane's joking manner seemed fitting. For her part, Jane couldn't believe she'd just made such a cheeseball remark, and was as baffled by that as she was by the fact that Maura didn't seem turned off by it. In fact, quite the opposite.

A sharp knock came at the door, and Jane sprang back. The assistant's voice came through: "You ready yet, kid?"

"Uh, yeah," Jane called back, straightening the waistband of her shorts and opening the door. "Sorry, all set here."

She followed him back out into the hallway with Maura on her heels, and suddenly she felt much more aware of her nakedness than she had before. Her appearance was such that it finally took Carla's attention from Constance, and she stared at Jane with a look of unflattering shock.

"Whose idea was this atrocious combination?" she asked.

Her assistant chimed in: "We were thinking something inspired by Philippe Halsman's portrait of Marilyn Monroe, lifting weights?"

"Oh, Philippe Halsman!" Constance said. "Such a genius. Don't you think, Ms. Tollucci?"

"Of course!" Carla agreed, and Jane barely refrained from rolling her eyes, certain that Carla had never heard of the man. "A visionary! I'm sorry, Jane, you just startled me at first. For a moment I didn't recognize the pattern of the swimwear, and I thought you'd simply walked out here without a top on!"

"Ha, no," Jane said shakily, wishing they could just head back into the room and out of the hallway—even though nobody else was there aside from Carla and Constance.

"Funny thing," said Constance, who had naturally noticed how flushed both girls looked. "If you get right down to it, a brassiere and the top of a bikini are essentially identical. The catch is, only one of them is acceptable to be seen in public."

Carla nodded, doing her best to look solemn and wise, as the assistant practically pushed Jane back into the studio room. Maura had paused, catching her mother's eye. She was unable to shake the notion that Constance had been talking about more than swimwear.

Carla's assistant held out two weights to Jane. "These are fifteen pounds. That gonna be okay with you?"

"Sure," Jane said brusquely, taking them from him. She headed to the bench he'd brought out, and lay back on it, awaiting further instruction. When Maura suggested she hold both weights above her head, Jane quickly obliged.

Nope. This was way, _way _too much. The curve of Jane's stomach, the tightness of her skin stretched over strong abdominal muscles, the slight glimpse of the side of her breast in this position. Legs spread. A bead of sweat trickling down her head.

"This work for you, Maur?" she asked, her voice raspier than usual.

"I—I've got to go," Maura said weakly, stumbling for the door. From the corner of her eye she saw Jane sit up, but she heard the assistant tell Jane to hang back as Maura hurried out of there.

One frantic look at her mother, and Constance was cutting Carla off mid-sentence with a loud apology that she had to get going. She put an arm around Maura's shoulder and swiftly lead her back down the stairs. The car was close, and Maura practically jumped into it before Constance could so much as get a word in. As they drove off, Maura curled herself as close to the door—away from her mother—as possible, breathing deeply through her nose as her mouth was clenched shut.

"Maura?" Constance eventually said. "Dare I ask what happened just now?"

"Nothing."

"And what about in that changing room?"

"N-nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing!" Maura said, more loudly, and it was followed by a sob she hadn't even felt coming.

Constance gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly, nerves shot. Seeing Maura cry was still something she was struggling to get accustomed to, and she hated that it was happening at all. Obviously something had happened with Jane to upset her like this right now, to shift her from being happily optimistic at the outset of their journey to reach this point of obvious devastation. Constance didn't feel it was her place to give advice in a scenario that she had no personal familiarity with, and she also wasn't sure exactly how much detail she wanted to hear about what'd transpired between them behind closed doors. But Maura couldn't lie, and she'd said nothing had happened…

_Oh, to hell with all this. I can't keep driving when she's in this state. _

Maura was still weeping heavily when Constance pulled up in front of an empty store. Turning fully to face her, Constance reached over to touch Maura's shoulder and said, "Please, dear. Tell me what this is about."

"N-nothing happened," Maura sniffed.

"Maura, _something _must have happened to make you this upset."

"No, that's just it! Nothing happened!" Maura said, frustrated that she wasn't being more clear. "I all but asked her in plain English to _just do something_, and sh-she didn't!"

"She didn't what, Maura?"

"She didn't kiss me!" Maura cried, burning with humiliation for admitting her frustration out loud. If she'd been able to bring herself to look at her mother, she'd have noticed that Constance also appeared a little embarrassed for having coaxed it out of her. But now that she'd started, she felt the need to go on, to fully explain herself: "I was h-helping her pick her next outfit, and I told her she …I told her how good she looked, and we were—I was—I… she _had _to have known how I felt! There is no possible way for her to have misconstrued my words or my expression o-or any of it!"

Constance squeezed Maura's shoulder a bit, encouraging her to take some much-needed deep breaths. "Darling, you can't beat yourself up about this."

"But I _know!_" she whimpered. "Mother, I see the way she looks at me and I cannot believe she doesn't feel the same way about me!"

Here, Constance had to bite her tongue. The truth was that she heartily agreed with Maura; one look at Jane and it was clear she was infatuated. Sadly that was no guarantee that the attraction was obvious to Jane herself, much less a guarantee that she would be happy to act on it once she recognized it.

"Maura, I understand your frustration," she said softly.

"No, you don't!" Maura cried, pulling sharply away. "You have no idea, mother, none! I know you're trying to be kind, and I'm grateful that you're n-not angry with me for feeling this way, but you don't understand! You will _never_ understand, never! No matter how well-meaning you are, you will never understand how frustrating this is!"

Maura wiped her sleeve under her nose and got another wail out before finally looking at her mother again. As unsettling as it was for Constance to see Maura in a sobbing fit, it was just as frightening for Maura to see that she had reduced her iron-willed mother to tears.

"Maybe I'm ignorant!" Maura sobbed, her throat starting to clench. "Maybe I'm wrong about Jane, maybe I d-don't get it, and she just thinks of me as a friend, and—if I try to say anything more overt, maybe sh-she… would hate me for it. Maybe she would revile me! All you ever had to worry about was the possibility of rejection, and as much as I'm sure that would sting, you _will not ever understand _what this is like!"

Constance thought it couldn't get harder than this. Surely there could be nothing more painful than seeing her daughter in agony like this. But she was wrong: the clincher was reaching over to try and hug her, and having Maura shrink away.

"Please don't," she sputtered, pulling her legs up onto the seat. She looked altogether like a creature that was trying to disappear into nothingness.

Constance was confused and a little hurt. Maura had had no problem being embraced when they had first really talked—had that been a fluke? It didn't feel right to just start driving again, but maybe that was best. Maybe Maura wanted to go home so she could be by herself. But Constance couldn't bring herself to just turn and look away, not without word.

Since Maura had confided in her, she had decided she was done with taciturn parenting.

"I just want to _know_," Maura finally said, her voice thick with tears. She took a shuddering breath. "I just want to know how she feels."

Wary of saying anything else, Constance held out her hand. Eventually, Maura took it, though she still stared out the window. Constance waited for Maura's sniffling to subside in its entirety before she got the car started again.

* * *

After the longest hour and a half of Jane's life, she rushed to use the office phone and call the Isles. She was heavily disappointed to have the maid pick up and tell her nobody was home, and it was only then that she dialed her own house and asked Angela to come pick her up.

Angela wanted to know all about how it had gone, and how fun it must have been to work with Carla, and whether Jane hadn't enjoyed getting in and out of all the clothes and getting her picture taken. Jane barely muttered her replies, just wanting to get home so she could try calling Maura again. On some level she knew it was rude not to be more engaged with her mother, as Angela's excitement was understandable and not coming from a mean place, but she couldn't help it: she was sour that Maura had run off so quickly and was now unreachable. The moment they got home, Jane rushed to use the phone, only to see Frankie was on it.

"Frankie!" she hissed, hitting his arm. "Who're you talking to?"

"Ow! It's Riley!"

"Well then _go down the block and see her!_ I need the phone!"

"Keep your dress on, I'll be done when I'm done!"

"Frankie!"

He just waved his hand at her, and Jane scowled and stalked into the kitchen. Frank greeted her, and to her relief, he didn't ask her about how Carla's shoot had gone. Instead, "Hey, kiddo! Me and your mom were gonna go to Sully's for supper tonight. You wanna come along?"

"Nah," she mumbled. "I'll stay here."

"You'll be on your own, y'know," he said lightly. "Frankie's going over to the Coopers, and Tommy's going to be at the Fairfields."

Thrilled by the prospect of an evening alone, Jane tried not to sound too excited when she said, "Thanks Pop, but I think I'll stay. I could use a night to myself, y'know?"

He winked and gave her a knowing look. "Gotcha, kiddo."

Jane turned and ran back into the living room, hitting Frankie's shoulder again. "You're going to her house tonight! _Get off the phone!_"

Recognizing the do-it-or-die look in his sister's eye, Frankie begrudgingly told Riley he'd see her later and hung up the phone. Before he could get a chance to ask what was up, Jane snatched the telephone and began to dial Maura's number, shooing him away. Her heart beat anxiously as it rang.

"Hello, Isles residence."

"Yvette? Hi, it's Jane…again."

She could hear the maid sighing. "Good afternoon, Miss Rizzoli. Hello. Maura is not back yet."

"Oh. I kinda thought maybe she'd—well, my brother was on the phone, and I didn't know if maybe she'd tried to call while he was yapping away to his girl. Will you have her call me as soon as she gets home?"

_"Oui_, Miss Rizzoli_._"

Jane worked half-heartedly on a composition assignment for nearly an hour before the phone rang, and she picked it up immediately. "Hello?"

"Jane?"

"Hi!" Jane said, smiling in relief at the sound of Maura's voice. "You bolted so fast from the studio today, I didn't get a chance to ask you over for dinner."

"Oh, dinner? Tonight?"

Her heart dropped at what sounded like trepidation. "Have you got plans already?"

"Well, Garrett asked me out."

"Did you say you'd go?"

"Well…I'd said I would meet him at Chez Pierre, yes."

"Ditch him," Jane whispered into the phone. "C'mon, Maura. I'm gonna have the house all to myself tonight, no parents or nagging brothers around. We can just talk… maybe drink a little, y'know? Just us girls."

There was a long pause on the line. Jane crossed her fingers. "You could teach me to dance," Maura said softly.

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely! So is that a yes? Will you come over?"

Another lengthy silence, and Jane didn't breathe until she got an answer: "What time do you want me to be there?"


	25. Treat Me Nice

**A/N**: Okay, y'all know how in Aladdin there are those two times where Jasmyne is skeptical but Aladdin holds his hand out and is all "do you trust me?" And um I guess because he was lying to her the second time around, this might not be the best analogy, BUT: stick with me. For a couple chapters we may be standing one one foot on the edge of a balcony, and you have to trust that I'm going to catch you at the bottom of the angsty fall. So do you trust me? If not, you may want to stop now. Just a heads-up.

* * *

At seven-thirty on the dot, Jane jumped when she heard the doorbell buzzing. She all but sprinted to open it, beaming when she could see Maura through the glass window by the door. Maura was a wintry vision, decked out in a long, silver-blue coat and tall green boots. As she entered the house, she unbuttoned the coat to reveal a crimson sweater and a silky black skirt—and, to Jane's surprise, no stockings.

"Jeeves get you here all right, then?" Jane said, waving at the chauffer who then drove away.

Maura started removing her boots. "_Edward _did fine, yes. I'd have driven myself, but I'm not entirely sure I trust my abilities on these icy roads."

"Should he have left?" Jane joked. "He'd have been welcome to stay in the… driveway."

Maura just laughed and started taking off her coat. "I told him you would get me back home."

"Well! That was very presumptuous of you. What if I told you that I didn't have a car handy?"

"Then I know you would let me hop on your back and you would walk me home."

Rolling her eyes, Jane shrugged and folded her arms. "Sure! Barefoot, and uphill both ways. Or I could call Edward—or your parents—for you."

"My parents are hosting a bit of a _soiree _tonight," Maura said. She shrugged off her coat when Jane reached for it. "Children weren't invited, which is why Garrett and I were going to have dinner elsewhere. I think they were trying to beat the rush of Christmas parties, as it isn't really a _Christmas_ party, per se, but an end-of-semester celebration before some of my father's colleagues depart for the holiday. Food, dancing, all of that."

"So what'd you tell Garrett, anyway?" Jane asked, hanging up Maura's coat. When an answer didn't come right away, she looked over and saw Maura looking rather guilty, she burst out laughing. "You didn't tell him!" she crowed. "You stood him up!" _For me!_

"Well, if I'd called and told him I couldn't go—"

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" Jane asked with a smirk.

Maura blushingly continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "He'd have wanted to know why, and as I'm physically incapable of lying, I would've had to have told him the truth!"

Jane mimed holding a phone up to her ear, cradling it on her shoulder: "Hi, Garrett, sorry I can't make it tonight. I'm going over to Jane Rizzoli's house because as dreamy as you are, you just can't hold a candle to homemade Italian perfection!"

"Italian perfection?" Maura giggled, trying to play this off as cool as Jane was. "Is that how you're describing yourself these days?"

"Uh, I meant the dinner," Jane said, and Maura looked embarrassed yet again. "Honestly though, what would've been the problem in telling him? It's not like you cut out to see another _guy_."

Maura played with her necklace a bit, nervous about looking Jane in the eye. "I suppose I didn't have the time to get a hold of him once I'd gotten myself all ready to come over."

"Gotten all ready?" Jane asked dumbly.

She had noticed right away that Maura was made up a little more than usual, wearing eyeliner, eye shadow, and a more noticeably pink shade of lipstick than she often used. It matched the color of her impeccably manicured nails. Her hair was elaborately swept up, making her look as if she might have easily fit in at her parents' party. But then Jane noticed that Maura's opal earrings noticed the locket around her neck—the one Jane had given her. Garrett's ring was nowhere in sight.

"You got all… like this… for me?" she asked in a hushed voice of humble surprise.

Maura couldn't even bring herself to nod. It wasn't like her to feel this shy, but she couldn't help it; not when Jane was acting so reverently. She merely folded her hands together, smiling a little bashfully at Jane, and that got the message across.

"Gee," Jane mumbled, running a hand through her hair. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, all of which screamed casual. "I feel like a right slob, here!"

"Oh, don't," Maura said quickly. "You look perfect."

"We don't match," Jane said, waving a hand between the two of them. "At least let me… I dunno, dress up a _little_."

"Are you comfortable?" Maura asked.

"Um…"

"If you're comfortable in those clothes, you should stay that way. You must be warm, at least."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Then don't worry about it."

"Okay." They lingered awkwardly by the front door a few moments longer, then Jane finally shook her head to clear it and nodded down the hallway. "Well c'mon, before the food gets cold!"

She was about to turn into the dining room, but Maura caught her by the arm first, looking alarmed. "Jane! What happened to your wrist?"

"What? Nothing," Jane said, though there was clearly a burn mark there. She'd been so startled when Maura had rung the bell, that she'd nearly dropped the pan she'd been holding, and scalded herself in the process. "It's fine. You want me to go put some ice on it?"

"No!" Maura gasped. "You mustn't do that! Putting ice directly on a burn will make your body too cold, and could cause further damage to the wound. Come here." She took Jane gently by the hand and lead her into the kitchen, which Jane couldn't help but find amusing as this wasn't even Maura's home. But that didn't stop her from taking a newly-dried bowl and filling it with water. "The trick is to put it in water that's cool, not cold. That will reduce swelling by conducting heat away from the skin."

"If you say so, doc," Jane said. The burn still stung a bit, but she'd planned on just riding it out. She liked having Maura play nurse, though.

Maura pulled the bowl out of the sink, and directed Jane to submerge her hand and wrist into it. "There now, just hold it for a while. I don't suppose you've got anything we could use for a bandage?" Before Jane could answer, Maura hastily added, "Gauze would be best. Cotton or something like it could get lint in the wound. I suppose it wouldn't _kill _you if you kept the burn un-bandaged, but covering it will keep air off and reduce the pain and protect your skin if it's gotten blistered."

Jane was smiling patiently, but Maura blushed, nervous that the look was a patronizing one and she'd rambled on for too long. "There should be some gauze under the sink," Jane said once she was sure Maura's explanation was through. "First aid kit."

"Oh! So there is. I'm glad you keep one of those around!"

"Mm, Tommy kinda made it necessary. Can't tell ya how many times he'd bust his nose or his forehead or his knee just playing around as a kid! Come to think of it, he _still _does that." Maura laughed appreciatively as she got the roll of gauze from the kit. They stood in silence for a few moments, Jane fidgeting as she always did before getting ready to ask a question she was anxious about. "So how come you bolted earlier today? At the studio?"

Maura inhaled deeply. She'd been expecting that question to come sooner or later. "I had to leave."

"How come?" Jane pressed her.

"I felt uncomfortable. It was your session, and I was trying to dictate it. I oughtn't have gone and thrown off your concentration."

"You didn't throw me off. Hell, I wish you'd stayed around, you could've kept me entertained, at least!"

"What else did he have you do?" Maura asked, smiling and feeling slightly relieved as it seemed Jane wasn't going to push her anymore.

"Oh!" Jane groaned. "Well after we legitimized the swimsuit, we had the golf get-up, and the softball uniform, and then the equestrian clothes!"

"You had better show me those photographs when they come out," Maura said with a grin.

"Hey, you're the one who up and left. You could've seen the real thing live and in person."

_Thanks, but it was my exposure to the real thing that made me have to high-tail it out of there. _Maura couldn't help but think back to a time many months ago, when Jane had come inside after mowing the Isles' lawn, and Maura had walked in on her using the hem of her shirt to wipe some sweat from her brow. That was the first time she'd gotten a look at Jane's abs, and while shocked at herself for being so aroused, she'd fervently hoped it wouldn't be the last time. Jane had teased her then about staring. If they'd still been in that phase of their relationship, Maura was sure Jane would tease her now: _you probably wanted to get out of there because you knew wouldn't be able to help yourself from groping me, right? I bet! _

Jane's voice broke into her thoughts. "Hey, you okay?"

"What? Yes. I'm fine."

Another silence, this one somewhat painful. "That locket looks really nice with that sweater," Jane finally said.

Maura's hand automatically went up to clutch at it. "Thank you. I was wearing it earlier today, too. Just …it was under my shirt." Was that too much information again? What did it matter that she'd been wearing it earlier? She cleared her throat and lightly touched Jane's arm. "I think you should be safe to take that out of the water now."

"Okay, doc," Jane whispered, grabbing a hand towel to dry it off. Before she could reach for the gauze, Maura grabbed it instead, and gently wrapped some around Jane's wrist. "Thanks," Jane muttered, flexing it. "Good as new."

"Gosh, I didn't even ask what happened," Maura said, putting the kit back where she'd found it.

"Ah, well, just happened while I was cooking, I guess. Generally I do all right in home economics, but I guess we all slip up now and then, right?" She laughed and led the way towards the dining room, adding, "I hope dinner's worth the trouble!"

Maura gasped when she walked into the dining room. Unbeknownst to her, the Rizzoli's only ate in here on special occasions—holidays, birthdays, and the occasional Sunday. Most of the time the scrappy kitchen table was good enough, but Jane knew that wouldn't cut it tonight. She'd spent a good chunk of time polishing their best flatware to be put out with newly-cleaned dishes and glasses. Admittedly, it wasn't a far cry from stuff you would find on the table at a cheap diner, but it had been the best Jane could pull together on short notice. There was a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water in the middle of the table, a small space between them that might have fit a nice candlestick if Jane could've found one.

"Sorry there's not better lighting," she said, when Maura continued to stare in silence. "I almost wish Ma still had her menorah."

This jarred Maura from her stunned state. "Your mother had a menorah? You're Catholic, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jane laughed. "I can't even remember where Ma picked it up—a yard sale, maybe? She thought it was just a real fancy candelabra. We had it for a while, until Pop finally noticed it and wanted to know what the heck a Jewish 'candle stand' as he called it was doing in the house. So… we don't have it anymore."

"Oh. Well, I think the table looks lovely on its own, Jane."

"Well, it ain't just for lookin', y'know!" she said, guiding Maura towards the chair on one end of the table. As Maura sat, Jane gestured to the wine bottle. "I don't suppose I can tempt you?"

"I don't think I should," Maura said.

"Fair enough. Far be it from me to press you." Jane quickly swept over with the water pitcher and poured Maura a glass, then decided to pour one for herself. She then quickly returned the wine to her parents' liquor cabinet, then ducked into the kitchen for her pot of gnocchi. A basket of rolls that Angela had made earlier was already on the table, and Maura was helping herself to one as Jane whisked back into the room. "Sorry I haven't got any salad or pre-main course, um… courses," she said.

"Aren't you cute!" Maura laughed. "This is more than fine, Jane."

"And I guess it's not as nice as Chez Pierre," Jane said, hovering over Maura's plate with the gnocchi and a ladle. "Um… how would you say this is for you in French?"

"Well, it wouldn't be fitting to say it in French. It's homemade Italian, isn't it? What is it in Italian?"

"Uh…my Italian's not quite up to snuff, but I can try." She held out the ladle. "_Per voi_?"

Maura smiled back. "_Grazie, signorina_."

Jane tried to keep her smile in check as she dished some gnocchi up for Maura, then returned to her setting and ladled up some for herself. She hurried the pot back to the kitchen and covered it, coming back to say, "If you want more, there's more. Just let me know and I'll get it for you."

"Thank you, Jane," Maura said. She took a bite. "Mm! Jane, this is delicious!"

"Thanks! It was my grandmother's recipe. I swear, I used to eat it everyday! I'd have had it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if my mother would've let me."

"I don't blame you."

For the next several minutes, Jane regaled a happy audience with stories about her grandparents, who had been the first in their families to grow up in America. Twice during this, Jo Friday came into the room to ask for food. Maura eventually grew sorry for the dog, and with Jane's permission, tossed her some bites of bread. Seeing the little creature reminded Maura of a dog she'd seen pictures of her father with in his army days. She told Jane about the dog that had apparently been his unit's mascot, helping to keep up morale among the troops.

"My father doesn't like to talk about the war much," she said. "But I think when I was younger, he thought I'd like the picture of the dog."

"Boy, my old man could go on for hours about his time in the army," Jane said. "He loved it, and he loved his men."

"Oh, that reminds me. Outside the studio today, I met the wife of a man your father served with. A Mrs. del Rossi?"

Jane nearly choked on her water. "Roxie?"

Maura raised her eyebrows. "You're on a first-name basis?"

"Well yeah, I mean, I'm friendly with most of the guys Pop served with—and their wives," Jane said, hoping that Maura hadn't noticed her sputtering a moment ago (she had). "Roxie's real young, though. Almost our age. Twenty, I think her husband said?"

"She said you had a short temper," Maura couldn't help adding, curious to see Jane's reaction.

She had expected an eye roll or at least faux indignation at this, but Jane looked genuinely upset. For a few moments, Jane was deaf to Maura saying her name. Roxie's smugness and her brash flirtatiousness rubbed Jane the wrong way, and she did not like that the woman had been talking to Maura. Maybe this could be a legitimate way to broach Maura's feelings on the issue of girls who found themselves attracted to other girls …Jane's stomach clenched at the thought. What if she found it disgusting? What if she went around town saying what Roxie was? What if Roxie got in trouble because of it, and had to do what her husband had done—that electro-shock therapy? Sure, Roxie was a piece of work, but she didn't deserve all that, did she?

_No, no. I'm getting ahead of myself here. Maura would never blab around like that, especially if I asked her not to say anything_.

"I just think it's rich of her to have said that," Jane blurted, inadvertently interrupting Maura's query as to whether she was all right. "I mean, that chick's got a lot of nerve saying something like that after what she's done to me."

Maura's brow was worried with concern. "Jane, what did she do?"

Jane was trembling, and it was a sensation that was very foreign to her. But she'd been wanting to tell someone about this ever since Roxie had cornered her against the bathroom door, and who better to confide in than her best friend? Shoveling up her last forkful of gnocchi, she forced herself to sound calm, like the incident hadn't even rattled her.

"She flirted with me, that's all."

After a few moments' silence, she stole a glance across the table at Maura, who did not appear quite as shocked as Jane had been expecting. "Are you sure?" she eventually said.

"What d'you mean, am I sure? You think I can't tell when a girl's trying to get her way in someone's pants?"

"Well!" Maura raised her eyebrows, her heart palpitating. She definitely hadn't been expecting Jane to tell her something like this, and was deathly afraid of what she thought was a tinge of disgust in Jane's tone of voice as she related it. And then a small part of her was also jealous, angry that Roxie had beaten her to the punch of flirting with Jane. "Well, how do you know for sure, though?" she said. "After all, _you _teased me quite a bit when I first moved here, sort of in that line."

"Yeah," Jane grunted. "Trust me, this wasn't teasing."

"Well I think that's abominable!"

Jane's heart sank.

"She is a married woman, and she's older than you!"

_Wait, what? _"That's all?"

"That isn't enough for you?"

"Well…" Jane looked around the room, as if expecting backup to come and explain to Maura what Jane had implied about Roxie. "She's a woman, Maura. A woman. And she was flirting with _me_."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear. Do you expect me to hold it against the woman that she's got a biological impulse she can't help?"

"A biological…" Jane put down her fork, gaping at Maura. She couldn't believe how composed the girl looked (and for her part, Maura couldn't believe she herself hadn't collapsed from nerves yet). "We sure never covered something like this in biology!"

What was that phrase her mother so liked using when being condescending about this country? Oh, yes. "That's because you Americans are so puritanical in your ways," she said, trying to sound lofty and worldly. "I suppose in some ways, you can't help it. It's your heritage. But research has been done by prominent scientists—an American one, even—that proves many people experience attraction to members of their same sex."

"What? How can that be? That's not true."

"It's not true? You have proof of that?"

"Well…" Jane definitely felt confused now, and she slumped back in her chair a bit before coming up with a response. "Okay, but just because it's true …I mean, there are impulses to do lots of things, aren't there? I'm sure there are people who really want to… have… um, really want to know each other _biblically _before they get married, but they wait, because it's the right thing to do. Isn't it?"

"Monogamy has its positives, that's certainly true. But—"

"So then this is the same thing then, isn't it? If you feel an impulse like that, that doesn't make it _right_, does it?"

The room felt very hot all of a sudden, and Maura's heart was going through the ringer. Jane didn't sound disgusted, but she was definitely panicked about this. "Let me get this right, Jane. You are disturbed by Roxie's flirting with you based only on the grounds that you are both female?"

"You make it sound like you don't see that as odd."

Last-ditch effort to give Jane a chance to save herself: "Well, I suppose I'd be flattered if it was me."

"_Flattered?!_"

"Certainly. She was very attractive. You're very attractive. It makes perfect sense to me."

Jane crossed her ankles under the table, one hand gripping her leg. Her eyes were glued to her plate, but she was still cognizant of Maura finishing off her own food. For her part, Maura wasn't sure how long she could keep up her façade of calmness. If Jane did not cotton onto her line of thinking and became vitriolic, she might very well have to call up Edward and ask him to take her home. She could say she wasn't feeling well, and it wouldn't be a lie. Jo Friday wandered back to Maura and sat by her feet, as Jane wasn't paying her any attention. Jane couldn't help it: she was drowning in her thoughts. She couldn't believe how cool and collected Maura was being about Roxie. Did that mean she'd be all right with it if Jane told her how she felt? Would _Jane _be all right with it, though?

Maura could talk all she wanted to about science and impulses, but Jane couldn't shake the feeling that it was still very wrong. It had to be, if war heroes talked about it like it was a sin worse than murder. Women like Roxie were liars, they were desperate. It couldn't be right. It couldn't. But Maura just sat there, all calm and nonchalant …and godless.

A full minute or more might have passed before Maura finally got up the courage to say, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Finally, Jane smiled a little. "Sorry. I guess I just never thought of it that way before. It, uh… the thing with Roxie …it gave me the creeps 'cause she's married. You won't tell anyone what I said, will you?"

"Of course not. It's not my business to tell."

"Thanks," Jane said with a grateful smile. She finally had the last bite of her gnocchi, and tried anxiously to think of how she might change the subject. How did one recover, exactly, from a conversation like that? How did one proceed? Aside from the obvious "well hey now, why don't we try it ourselves?"

"Thank you again for dinner," Maura said. The way she put it, it wasn't as though she was planning it as the prelude to a goodbye. She didn't want to leave, and Jane didn't want her to go. She was just trying to change the course of conversation. "It was great."

"Ah, well. Thanks. Sorry there wasn't more."

"Oh, it was fine. But on the phone, you know, you promised me dancing."

"Right." Jane paused, then slapped the table. "Right! I'll just clear the table here, and we can get to work."


	26. Another Sleepless Night

**A/N**: Thanks for the pledges of trust, everyone! Keep that thought with you as you continue onward.

Also, I would recommend looking up the Doris Day version of "They Say It's Wonderful" that the girls dance to in this chapter. It's just such a beautiful song and she so owns it.

* * *

Ignoring Jane's protests that it wasn't a guest's place to do any work, Maura insisted on helping to clear up, and within a timely manner they had cleaned up all remnants of the dinner party. Once everything was off the table, Jane washed the dishes and Maura dried them, laughing when Jane splashed her accidentally-on-purpose a few times. To get back, Maura would swat at her with a dish towel. Ultimately it added time to the task, but it wasn't time either of them minded spending. When they were finally finished, Jo circled them curiously as Jane led the way to the living room where the record player was kept. Pulling out a sheaf of records, she showed them to Maura.

"You wanna pick something that moves you, of course," Jane said. "I mean, when you're dancing with Garrett at your debutante ball. Something nice, something you like. Mind if I pick one for now?"

"Go ahead." She wasn't terribly surprised when Jane selected an album of Doris Day's, and Maura studied the cover. Ever since discovering Jane's passion for _Calamity Jane_, Maura had made a mission out of going to the library and researching the star and all of her projects through trade magazines and the like. As Jane put the record on, Maura said, "Music from _Annie Get Your Gun_? Did you know Jack Warner wanted to buy that property for Doris Day, but MGM beat him to it?"

Jane nodded. "Betty Hutton, right? Never did like her. She's kinda corny."

"Well, anyway, that's what made Warner Brothers decide to put Day in a musical about another famous woman from the Old West—probably just as romanticized as _Annie Get Your Gun_, but that's the fun in movies, I suppose. It seems Doris won in the end, though, by getting to record Cole Porter's music anyway."

"Some of it, at least," Jane said, as the orchestral introduction began. She put one hand on Maura's back, and raised her other one. "Ready?"

"Fire away, professor."

After resigning herself to the fact that nobody was going to play with her, Jo settled on the couch to watch as Jane and Maura slowly began moving about the room.

_"They say that falling in love in wonderful… it's wonderful, so they say…"_

Jane mostly kept her eyes on the floor, whispering the occasional instruction to Maura as they danced. Maura was a quick learner and Jane wasn't exactly pulling any hard moves, which made for a relatively smooth experience. She noticed, though, that Jane's hand seemed a little restless on her back. Now and then it would shift up or down, her grip tightening when they turned.

_"I can't recall who said it/I know I never read it… I only know that falling in love is grand_…" Maura asked if they could try a twirl, and Jane laughingly obliged. _"The thing that's known as romance is wonderful, wonderful…_"

They twirled again, and this time Jane pulled Maura in close. Her hands were resting on the small of Maura's back, keeping them pressed together. Maura looked up at her in surprise, and Jane took a small step back, both hands now gripping Maura's waist. After a moment, Maura shifted her hands up to Jane's shoulders, and they continued to sway on the spot.

"Y'know what my Pop always said about dancing?" Jane whispered. "Unless you're married, there should be enough room to lay a Bible flat-out and open between you and your partner."

There wasn't enough room to lay a closed address book between them, much less an open Bible. Maura chose not to make any remarks.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," she said softly. "I mean, the dinner and teaching me how to do this. It's all very lovely, but you didn't have to."

Jane just grinned and shrugged, pleased that Maura liked it. "I know, I just wanted to. I thought it'd be kinda fun—y'know, what with you breaking off your date with Garrett and me having had a romantic dry spell as of late. Something special for us girls together. Sort of uh …a make-believe night on the town. No guys, 'cause we don't need 'em, right, sister?"

Maura ignored the poor attempt at humor. "Do you miss Joey?"

"I'm sorry he hates me, but I don't wish we were still together, no. Kissing that guy was a real drag, let me tell ya."

"Really? You two seemed to have honed it down to a very symbiotic rhythm," Maura said matter-of-factly, and the next song began. Jane chose not to mention that all the kisses Maura was likely thinking of had been staged by Jane for Maura's benefit. "I was particularly struck by that instance where he had you pinned against the wall outside school. I'd never seen anyone go at it quite like that before—and I grew up in Europe."

Jane snorted, and Maura thought she could die from that devilish grin. "You're so innocent," she snickered. She bit her lip and finally brought herself to look Maura in the eye. "I bet you've never even kissed a boy." An outlandish and surely false statement, just to make Maura balk. And now maybe she could get some details on what exactly Maura and Garrett had been up to lately.

Without realizing it, Maura was biting her lip back. Arms now clasped around Jane's neck, the music still going, she returned Jane's stare. She was fully aware that the pronouncement had invited a response. Obviously, a counter-argument was expected. Jane knew Maura couldn't lie, and Maura was aware that Jane knew this. What Jane did not know was that technically, Maura had never taken initiative and kissed a boy. She had _been _kissed by two, but Jane's wording allowed her to honestly give her a false impression: maybe she could skate by with a white lie, something she felt impressed to do. See where it led.

"I haven't," she murmured.

Jane looked honestly shocked. "_What?_"

"I've never kissed a boy."

"You've never been kissed?"

_That's not what you said before!_ Maura smiled shyly and shrugged, hoping that would suffice.

Jane exhaled deeply and stepped back a bit, reverting them to the position they had first begun dancing with. She navigated smoothly around the coffee table, feeling strangely elated that nobody had kissed Maura Isles before. "Wow," she sighed. "I never would've guessed that a girl like you had no experience."

"A girl like me? You think I look loose?"

Even though it was clearly a joke, Jane hastened to correct it: "No, no, I mean you're—you're so beautiful." She swallowed an caught Maura's eye, holding her gaze as she reverently repeated, "You're so beautiful." There was a verbal and physical pause to give that sentence the weighty solitude it deserved, and it took a moment for Jane to resume leading their dance. "I would've thought there'd be boys lined up down the block for you… that a few must've kissed you…" She whistled. "Y'know, I kinda think Garrett Fairfield's the type who has experience."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you think he'll expect me to be good at it?" Maura asked. Jane shrugged half-heartedly. "Were you good the first time you kissed a boy, Jane?"

The response came out as a laugh before Maura could even fully finish the question. "No. No way, pal! It was really very awkward. We had no idea what we were doing—didn't know what to do with our hands, or even our mouths after a point, hardly." She chuckled at the memory, and it sounded very cynical. "Yeah. Not exactly a fairytale first-time deal."

"Oh," Maura said quietly.

"Yeah, he and I don't talk much anymore."

Maura took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she was soon to propose. "Oh my. Imagine how awful it would be for my family and the Fairfields if Garrett and I weren't on speaking terms. You know," she said when Jane raised an eyebrow at her. "If I kiss badly, maybe he won't be interested in me anymore. Maybe he won't talk to me anymore, like your first kiss doesn't talk to you."

The wheels in Jane's head were turning, also. There were many reasons why she and Casey Jones didn't talk anymore, and that first kiss definitely had nothing to do with it. But Maura didn't need to know that. Jane licked her lips. Her voice was dry. "Yeah. Imagine."

"Did you get better at it?" Maura asked innocently.

A short burst of air preceded the response: "What, kissing? Uh—yeah."

"How?"

"Um, practice, I guess. Like anything. You just gotta get used to it, how it works."

"Oh," Maura whispered. Asking outright for this was going to be a lot more difficult than she'd imagined, and she'd already supposed it would be pretty hard. Her heart hammered in her ears as she tried to scrounge up the courage, or maybe she was waiting for Jane to take up the all-but-there invitation.

_Maybe she's worried it'll make her like Roxie… maybe this is how Roxie got into it. I made the pass, it's her turn to take it. If she wants me, if she wants to try, this can be it… _

At some point, they had stopped dancing again, and both of them had definitely stopped paying attention to the music. Neither was sure how much time had passed when Jane finally whispered Maura's name. In a deeply serious voice, she looked Maura in the face and asked, "Do you want me to show you how to kiss?"

Maura inhaled silently but deeply, needing extra air after Jane's offer set off an explosion in her chest. "Yes—how?"

"I can…" She shrugged one shoulder, nudging Maura's foot and leaning a little closer. Her gaze dropped briefly before rejoining Maura's, and she fidgeted slightly. But her voice maintained its seriousness, desperate to communicate to Maura that this was not a joke. "I can practice with you. Coach you through it… see if you even _need _coaching at all."

Maura nodded rather than breathed. "Okay," she whispered. _Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. _"Okay. Thank you."

"No problem."

They stood staring at each other a few moments longer, and Jane realized she had stopped breathing. She tried (and failed) to casually take a deep breath, then swallowed hard and unconsciously took Maura by the hand. On her way out of the living room, she pulled the needle up off the record player while Maura reached for the light. When Maura wasn't looking, Jane used the hand signal Korsak had showed her to make Jo Friday stay, and so the little dog remained in the living room, cocking her head curiously as she saw Jane lead Maura up the stairs.

When they reached Jane's bedroom, Jane dropped Maura's hand. She wasn't even sure why. Maura went over and sat on the bed without invitation as Jane shut the door as an extra precaution. "Just in case," she explained, nodding behind her and walking slowly towards the bed. It was probably silly, since no one else was home anyway, but Jane didn't feel quite safe leaving the door open. "Don't want anyone barging in and uh… getting the wrong idea!"

"Which would be what?" Maura asked, unable to help herself. Jane froze a foot from the bed, and Maura's heart sank. _Don't go there, not yet. She isn't ready—you aren't ready. Play the game and it will happen. All of it will happen. Tell her that was a joke. _

But all Maura could manage was a shy giggle. Thankfully, it seemed to suffice. Jane smiled nervously and sat on the corner of the bed, six inches or so between them.

"Right," she whispered. "We're just gonna make you feel comfortable about this, okay?" She looked down and realized her hand was rubbing up and down Maura's arm. Maura was looking also; she returned her gaze to Jane's eyes, biting her lip again. Jane chuckled nervously, scooting a little closer. "Uh—of course, y'know your first kiss shouldn't be on Garrett's _bed_. Actually, to be safe, none of your kisses should be on his bed."

"Right," Maura breathed, not having the strength to joke around anymore. There was no teasing flirtatiousness in her tone when she asked, "How do I look?"

"Look?" Being so close to Maura, hand now resting on her waist, was making it hard for Jane to concentrate on stringing words together. Her eyes kept going to Maura's lips, a move that was not lost on Maura. "You look beautiful, Maura, like I said earlier. You always do."

Maura sighed, feigning boredom. She moved incrementally closer. "I've heard that before. I suppose I was hoping to look a little different for my first time kissing a—boy."

Jane's eyes roved over Maura's body. "You should be made to feel different," she agreed, her voice getting lower. "What have people called you in the past?"

Another lofty sigh. "I get 'pretty' a lot. 'Lovely' as well. And if I put in an effort, as I did tonight, people might say I'm beautiful."

"You are all those things," Jane said, her voice quiet and gentle. Reverent. She reached for Maura's hair, bringing it carefully over her shoulders. "You now what else you are though, Maura Isles?" The airy bravado was gone, the breathless beauty was back: Maura's eyes got a little wide and she shook her head. Jane's voice went deeper, sounding absolutely carnal: "_Sexy_." The darkness hid Maura's blush at the unexpected compliment. "What about me?" Jane asked, suddenly sounding nervous again. "I look the part? Wait, don't answer that yet—stay right here."

Maura sat in surprise as Jane vaulted off the bed and ran out of the room. She returned half a minute later, buttoning up one of her father's white collared shirts over her tee. Maura stifled a frown, frankly disappointed that Jane felt the need to dress the part so literally. And yet, there was something undeniably attractive about her dressing in this way. Her dominant energy, her confidence, seemed restored—even magnified—as she sat back down on the bed.

"Feel better?" Maura prompted her, placing her hands on Jane's shoulders.

Jane gingerly reached up for one of Maura's hands, pulling it down and interlacing their fingers. "Yeah," she murmured, staring at Maura's lips again before unconsciously wetting her own. "Yeah, this is good." She inched closer, moving her free hand a little awkwardly to Maura's cheek. _She's so soft. _Jane tried to clear her throat. "Now. Maura. Guys like Garrett—you don't wanna be brash. Don't wanna, uh… take away his control, see? So that means you gotta let him take the first move. Don't _you _go catching him off guard. Let him come to you, okay?"

Never had something existed that Maura wanted more than she wanted to kiss Jane Clementine Rizzoli just then. She couldn't think to formalize a verbal reply; she could barely summon the energy to nod. Jane whispered "okay" again in response, although it might have been more to herself than to Maura.

_ Don't screw this up, Rizzoli. It's your one chance. Do it! You can't lose your nerve now!_

With a quick breath, Jane closed her eyes and also the distance between them, meeting Maura's lips with her own.

So many sensations at once.

Maura's fingers tightened around Jane's while her other hand slid from Jane's shoulder to the back of her neck. Soft, smooth lips pressed eagerly against rough, chapped ones, wetting them over. Heartbeats jumped dangerously. Jane's free hand moved to Maura's waist, gripping it hard. Yes, Maura had done this before, but she was happy to submit herself to Jane, letting the older girl's lips control her own, directing the kiss. A soft whimper escaped her when one of Jane's hands shifted up to her hair, curling her fingers into it and pulling—not hard, but just enough to push free some of the pins holding it in place, and Maura's hair loosened to her shoulders.

She let out a hint of a moan when Jane's tongue slid once, twice, along the length of her parting lips. Jane inhaled deeply as she felt Maura's fingers rest on her cheeks, keeping her close, encouraging Jane to slip in the tongue.

Jane broke it off.

"Maura?" she asked in a shaky whisper. An eternity might have passed before she was able to summon speech again. How could she talk when Maura Isles was looking at her like this, like she was some irresistible celestial being? But she had to talk, she had to bring them back. It was the only way to keep from totally losing herself to this, which she _could not _do. "I…you… you're—know what a French kiss is?"

"Of course," Maura responded breathlessly. "I grew up in France, after all."

Jane tried to smile at the bid for humor, but found it difficult to make her mouth do anything when all she wanted was to put it against Maura's again. It took a few moments to regain the ability to make those lips give form to comprehensive thoughts: Jane felt like her mind had been melted, or perhaps vaporized.

"Well, good boys don't French kiss on the first time around." She licked her lips. Her throat felt very dry.

Maura looked a little anxious, defensive. "You're the one who tried it."

"Right. Well, um…you're the girl. You're the one who's supposed to stop me if things go too far, see?"

"I see," Maura whispered. "That'd be the proper, All-American girl thing to do?"

"Mm-hm," was the best Jane could manage when Maura was looking at her like that.

A grin slowly unfolded on Maura's face. "Ah, but I'm not American. I still consider myself very, very French." Jane's eyes widened as Maura bravely straddled her hips, hands tugging at Jane's collar. "Will the All-American need some convincing to get over his Puritanical conditioning?"

Jane was hardly able to breathe. "Couldn't hurt," she eked out. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it seemed as though Maura's grin turned slightly devilish as she leaned back down.

And here came the convincing: Maura went for Jane's neck, right at the spot beneath her ear. She smiled to herself at the sound of Jane's sharp inhale; Maura pulled Jane's ear lobe between her lips and Jane didn't breathe out again. Only when Maura moved back down came a shaky breath, and Jane's hands shifted to Maura's waist, pulling her closer. Her eyes kept drifting shut and she wanted to fight it, wanted to fight anything that might've pointed to all of this being just a beautiful, tortuous dream.

But it couldn't be a dream. It couldn't be. Jane could maybe have dreamt about the idea of kissing Maura, but she could not have had the reference for what it would physically feel like.

Maura's lips trailing hard and soft down her neck, smooth like velvet. Her tongue skirting along choice areas which she then sealed her mouth over, sucking in. One hand, surprisingly strong, tugging at Jane's shirt collar; the other winding its fingers through Jane's curls, holding on for an anchor. The way—_oh, God_—the way her hips were starting to roll forward, her skirt beginning to ride up. How smooth, how soft her legs were when Jane let her hands drift down to them, holding them just below the thigh. The way her name sounded when Maura whimpered it breathlessly, almost into her mouth.

Jane froze.

_Her _name.

That made it too real.

Although Jane didn't say anything, Maura noticed. She pulled back, looking warily at Jane. Panic was piercing its way through those dark brown eyes, and though Maura had some inkling of what the answer would be, she asked, "What's wrong?"

It was harder than ever to try talking now. "Guys—guys don't want you to talk." She tried to clear her throat and nothing happened. "Maura," she whispered. _Don't tear it_. "Don't speak."

Maura couldn't contain a frown. She had hoped so badly that this would help Jane feel a little more comfortable with her feelings, that she would be open to admitting or at least discussing things. She'd hoped it would help Jane to know she was far from alone, and that her feelings were returned in equal measure. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. Tonight was not the night for heartfelt confessions, and as aroused as Maura had felt, disappointment was layering itself thickly over her. And yet, she couldn't get herself to stop, to get up off Jane's lap. Not when it seemed like this chance might never come again.

"Okay," Maura whispered. Her fingers were interlaced behind Jane's neck; she closed her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead was resting against Jane's. "So what should I do?" she asked in a trembling voice. _My heart is in your hands. _

"Just…" Jane pulled back, opening her eyes and searching Maura's face.

It was startling. Maura's countenance was undeniably sad—it seemed she could no more easily hide her emotions than she could tell a lie. More than anything, it was confirmation that she felt as saddened by the pretense of all this as Jane did. In a way, though, that was encouraging. It meant maybe Jane was safe to acknowledge it… in a small way… make her tell a truth, see how she says it.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly.

Maura swallowed hard, emotion unexpectedly overcoming her. She shook her head. "No," she said, her voice cracking. _Don't cry. Hold it together._ Jane's grip on her waist tightened. "No, please, don't stop J—"

"Then shut up and kiss me," Jane breathed.

She kissed Maura aggressively, holding her tight as if fearing Maura would slip away entirely if her grasp lightened. Every breathy sound Maura made, every light way she touched, made Jane realize this was the way she, as a girl, "should" have responded in the past to boys' affection. This was what people did when they kissed someone they were enraptured with. And that made her feel sure that Maura _had _to have done this before. She was too good at it not to know what she was doing. But also, Maura did not have an imagination this good. She, _Jane_, was the one making Maura react this way, and that turned her on more than she thought was possible. They were getting closer to that proper French kiss; Jane could feel it building. Maura was rocking harder against her, their lips smacking loudly with the start of each increasingly anxious kiss—

A door slammed.

Jane broke away so fast that a pained gasp escaped Maura. Frank and Angela's voices were floating up the stairs, accompanied by the laughter of another couple. She couldn't speak for Maura, but Jane's heartbeat was hammering so painfully against her chest that she thought she was about to have an attack. She muttered for Maura to get off of her and tried to stand up.

Trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of her father's shirt as she hurried across the floor to flip on the light. She ran down the hall back to her parents' room, flinging the button-down into their hamper, then returned to her room.

"Follow my lead, okay?" she whispered urgently, harshly. "Don't say a thing."

"Jane, calm down," Maura said, her breathing still pretty labored.

"_Calm down?_" Jane asked, looking as if Maura had suggested setting the house on fire. "When my parents might've just walked in on—"

"You mean we couldn't just say what we were doing? That you, oh kind and helpful one, were simply teaching me how to kiss?" she whispered, her tone acidic. There was no naïveté in her voice, only accusation, when she added, "Wasn't that all we were doing, Jane? Wasn't it all totally innocent?"

"Just—don't say anything," Jane muttered, looking away. "Fix your hair and your lipstick, and let me handle this."

"Can I make just one suggestion?" Maura asked dryly. She pointed to her own neck. "You might want to cover that up."

Jane stepped over to the mirror and gasped at the bruise forming on her neck. She'd never let a guy close enough to do that to her. Pushing past Maura, she ran to the closet, flinging aside all the hangers until she reached the hideous lavender turtleneck she never wore—had never needed to wear until now. Angela's voice came up the stairs as Jane was pulling the shirt over her head.

"Jaaaane! Jane, are you up there?"

"Yeah, Ma!" she yelled back.

"Well come down and say hello to the Maggiones!"

"Okay, I'll be right there!"

"Nick and Ginny Maggione?" Maura asked.

"Yeah."

"They live on my block. How do your parents know them?"

"Gee, how do folks like _mine _know people who live on _your _block?" Jane grunted. "My Pop shines his shoes and Ma washes their clothes." She huffed and fidgeted with the hem of the turtleneck, averting her gaze from Maura's hurt face. "They all went to high school together, okay? Nick came into a lot of money when his uncle died a few years back, so I figure that's why they can afford to live in your fancypants part of town."

"Jane, I don't think I deserve this attitude from you," Maura said, trying to sound proud, not wounded.

Jane's face softened and she opened her mouth to say something, but Angela beat her to it: "JANE! Get your rear down here and be sociable!"

"C'mon," Jane mumbled, ducking out of the room.

They walked downstairs and were greeted by the four adults, all of them with drink in hand. The Rizzoli's expressed their surprise that the Maggiones knew Maura, and they likewise registered their surprise that she and Jane were together on a weekend. Unfortunately, though they hadn't meant it offensively, it didn't do much to improve Jane's sour and paranoid mood.

"Yeah, who'd think a princess would be friends with a pauper?" Jane grumbled. Angela scowled at her.

"I just meant that the two of you seem very different," Mrs. Maggione explained.

"Like I said."

"You two aren't even in the same class at school, are you?"

"No, we're not," Maura said. "But generally we still enjoy spending time together, regardless."

"You girls looked flushed," Frank observed, cuing Jane to look at him anxiously. He did not look particularly happy to have come home on a Sunday night to see Jane with this kid he still considered a questionable heathen. "Didn't have a couple of boys up there, did you?"

Jane's answer was immediate and disgusted: "No!"

Catching the fear in her daughter's tone, Angela stepped closer, forgetting that they had company. "Jane Clementine Rizzoli, don't you lie to us," she said in a warning voice.

"There were no boys upstairs," Maura cut in calmly. Frank and Angela (and Jane) turned to look at her. "Jane was just… helping me."

"Our little punk was helping _you_?" Frank laughed, ruffling Jane's hair. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to be the genius, Maura? What did you need her help with?"

Maura took a small breath, avoiding Jane's glare. It wasn't a matter of lying, it was a matter of answering with a different truth: "Jane's actually quite an apt English student, you know. I am fairly brilliant when it comes to mathematic equations and scientific formulas. My recall for historical dates, facts, and figures is equally impressive." Her gaze was now locked on Jane, missing the amused look being exchanged by the adults. "But compositions are a struggle for me. Technically I know how to form a paragraph and an essay, but feeling is not something my memory or intellect can inject. Jane, on the other hand, is a master at spinning a tale. As far as I'm concerned, her persuasive talents are second to no other." She took a deeper breath. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm a little to naïve to keep up."

"You wanna try again sometime?" Jane asked, trying to keep her voice flat. "I think maybe we were getting someplace. I'm a lousy tutor, I know, but…"

Maura tried to smile, even ruefully, but to no effect. "I don't know that it would be worth wasting your efforts. I just don't seem to be getting it."

An awkward silence descended upon the group just then, none of the adults quite sure why or how an air of solemnity had suddenly settled upon them. The two teenagers had eyes only for each other, attempting tacitly to convey a myriad of things. Jane opened her mouth twice to start saying something, but never had a chance to speak. There was too much to say, and she had no idea how to articulate any of it—especially in front of other people. Especially in front of her parents.

Mr. Maggione cleared his throat. "Well," he said, setting down his empty glass. "It's getting late—Ginny, we should be getting home. Maura, can we give you a lift?"

"Thank you very much, sir. I would appreciate it."

Maura left with the Maggiones a minute later without saying another word to Jane, save for "goodbye." After she left, Jane trudged back to her room, closing her door and hitting the light. Still dressed, she threw herself down onto her bed, where she tossed and turned the entire night. Her stomach ached and she was too shocked at what had happened to even be able to cry. She grabbed a pillow and clutched it tightly, curling up into a ball and just waiting for the waves of hurt to stop washing over her, waiting for blessed sleep to come and take her tortured thoughts away. But though she eventually grew very tired, she didn't get a minute's sleep.

Thus she fared only slightly better than Maura. When she got home, she slipped inside the house and went straight upstairs, unnoticed by the throngs of people—her parents' guests—in the living room and the ballroom. To the muted sounds of music floating up from the party below, Maura spent the majority of the night alone, sobbing into her pillow.


	27. Heartaches By the Number

**A/N**: Thank you everyone for your support with that last chapter. In this one, I finally got to use some good lines from the show, *hooray*

* * *

It was just past six in the morning when Jane heard Jo Friday scratching at her door. After lying in bed all night with nothing but her self-loathing thoughts for company, Jane vaulted at the chance to do something productive and get her mind off her misery. She swung her feet over the bed, and winced when they landed on something pointy on the floor. Rubbing her tired eyes, Jane bent over and realized there were four hairpins scattered on the floor by her bed. For just a second she wondered where on earth they had come from, because she never liked sticking those things in her hair—and then she remembered.

She remembered, with distinct clarity, how it had felt to be kissing Maura Isles deeply while curling a fist in her loose bun. How she'd tugged at it harder than she'd meant to, sending those hairpins to the floor and letting Maura's hair partially down. Jane's throat felt tight as she recalled the breathy gasp Maura let out at that move.

Jane was practically doubled over on the side of the bed, clutching her stomach as tears fell out of her eyes. Jo whimpered, and Jane gave a little sob, quickly brushing at her eyes as she stood up and walked over to open her door. Jo hurried inside and after Jane closed the door again, she sank down to the floor and Jo settled anxiously in her lap. Sniffling weakly, Jane stroked the top of the dog's head, wishing the animal were someone she could talk to.

_What's the matter with me, Jo? How could I be so awful to her? How could I have let her go without talking to her? How could I kiss her like that, let her kiss __me__ like that, and not tell her genuinely how much I wanted to do it again? You saw how we danced, and I saw how she looked at me and felt how she kissed me. She feels it too, Jo. That was my chance to tell her I think I'm falling in love with her and that I don't know what to do about it._

_She doesn't think it's a wicked thing. But it is. It has to be. They all say so. She's just a kid. What does she know?_

_All I know is that I love her and I want to be with her like that again. Why, God, why me?! _

After taking Jo for a walk, Jane seriously considered playing hooky. She did not want to take the chance of running into Maura today. But the semester was almost over, and there was an algebra exam she needed to be present for in the morning. Surely if she was diligent about it, she could avoid bumping into Maura. Besides, she was sure that Maura was likely to be just as cautious about seeing her. Her record was already shaky, anyway: if she cut school, her parents would be informed, and a lecture about her behavior was the last thing she needed right now.

Act cool. Act like nothing is wrong.

When she got home with Jo, Angela was already up preparing pancakes. "Are you all right, Jane?" she asked.

"Sure, Ma."

Angela stopped mixing the batter and gently blocked Jane's path to the stairs. "You went right to your room after Maura went home last night, and it wasn't even ten o'clock. What is it, honey, are you sick?" she asked, concernedly putting the back of her hand to Jane's forehead.

With surprising patience, Jane pushed Angela's hand away. "I'm fine, Ma, really. I was just tired last night. Early mass, then working with Carla, all that …it was real exhausting. So many costume changes, and the hot lights and everything? Being a model isn't a cake walk."

"I'd imagine not!" Angela laughed. "I can't wait to see how those photos turned out!"

Jane merely grunted and trudged upstairs to get dressed for school.

Avoiding Maura in the hallways turned out to be suspiciously easy. It took Jane a few hours to wonder if maybe she was the one who had chosen to play hooky.

On Mondays Desmond had a seven o'clock class, so he was already up and out the door before Constance had even made it to the dining room. When 7:15 rolled by and Maura had still not come down for breakfast, though, Constance wondered if it was possible that the girl had overslept. Usually she woke up on time, even without an alarm clock, and coming down any time after 7:05 was very outside the norm. Yvette offered to go and check on Maura and Constance was instinctively about to let her, but she quickly got up from the table instead.

"Shall I put the food out?" Yvette asked.

"You'd better just keep it warm, thank you."

Constance went up and knocked on Maura's door. When there was no immediate response, she knocked a little louder, but still nothing. She wondered if maybe Maura was in the shower, but she strained her ears and couldn't hear any water running. After a few moments' deliberation she slowly opened the door. Maura was lying on her bed, curled up into a ball, her back to Constance. She gave no indication of being awake, but when Constance walked right up to the bed, she heard a distinctive sniff.

"I thought you'd just go away," Maura said, and it was the smallest voice Constance had ever heard her daughter use. She sniffed again, and when she felt Constance sit on the edge of the bed and put her hand on Maura's shoulder, Maura remained in place, staring at the wall. "I used to knock on your door at night, when I was little and I had a nightmare. I would knock and no one would come, and I would walk back to my room."

Constance swallowed hard, at a loss for words. "Do you think subconsciously you were nervous about waking us? Did you knock softly?" _I don't ever remember hearing her do that_.

"Maybe," Maura admitted. "At the time I just figured you didn't want to be disturbed, which I understood as it would be quite late at night or quite early in the morning, so I would leave. Just now, I thought…" She took a deep breath, curling inwards a little bit more. "I thought you would knock and go away."

"Is that your way of telling me you don't wish to be disturbed?" Constance asked quietly, and Maura did not respond. "My dear, you've got to leave for school in just under an hour. Are you ill?"

Maura was silent for several long moments, and with years of experience behind her, Constance knew the girl was weighing the benefits of trying to tell a lie. Would the immediate physical, negative reaction be worth it to attempt hiding the truth?

Here, now, came an even smaller voice than before: "I kissed her."

It was a strange sensation: Constance's hand was still on Maura's shoulder, and she could swear she felt every muscle in Maura tense up. She was locking herself in, putting a wall up in preemptive defense. She relaxed only slightly when Constance leaned over to whisper that she would call the school and inform them Maura would not be attending today. Rather than leave the room to do so, Constance reached over for the telephone by Maura's bed, sure to give her time to sit up and say she would of course be going to school today. There was no such reaction, however; If anything, Maura seemed relieved. Constance had to concede that was partly conjecture, as Maura was still lying with her back to Constance as the phone call was made. When Constance hung up, Maura reached over and put her hand on top of her mother's.

"My darling girl," Constance whispered. "How did it happen?"

"It's my fault," Maura whimpered, gripping her mother's hand tightly. "I was just so anxious for it to happen. I was so impatient. I led her into it."

"You _led _her into it?"

"I… I led her to believe that I had never been kissed before. And she thought that was a shame, and that G-Garrett would have a lot of experience, and if I were to keep on dating him, he would expect me to know how. To be good at it. And Jane's had a couple boyfriends, you know, and so she offered to…" Maura took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but also embarrassed to admit this. "She offered to show me how."

Constance closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When Maura had confided her feelings for Jane, Constance had never imagined a step like this would happen so soon. If anything, she'd have advised against it: she didn't feel Maura was secure enough in her feelings to take such a significant action, nor did she feel Jane was anywhere near ready to deal with the consequences of it all, either. Without discussing anything first, Jane might be too upset to ever want to consider broaching it again—and that was _if _she felt the same way at all. If Maura had acted on her feelings out of nowhere, Jane might not feel comfortable being around her anymore.

And it was so painfully clear how much Maura needed her.

"I know she likes me, mother," Maura said, wiping fresh tears out of her eyes. She coughed and it was an ugly sound, relaying all the crying she had done already. "She wouldn't have—she _couldn't _have kissed me the way she did if she didn't feel attracted to me."

It was hard to tell if the ball was in Constance's corner now, or if she should just let Maura keep going. She didn't want to pressure her daughter into discussing anything she didn't want to, but Constance also wanted to make sure she was coming across as supportive, not horrified. Finally she landed on, "Did you… discuss things?"

"No," Maura said, her tone bitter. "We were upstairs, and her parents got home, and Jane went into a panic."

_I can hardly blame her_, Constance hated thinking to herself.

"She was harsh, and I wasn't particularly pleasant back. I got a ride home from the Maggiones, because they'd been with Jane's parents, I suppose, but I couldn't figure it out, mother. Jane kept changing. I knew she was scared, but she wouldn't let me tell her I'd help her through it. She didn't let me tell her I was sincere, how I felt …and it threw me." With great effort, Maura shifted to sit up, turning around to face Constance and resting on one hand. The poor thing did not look well at all, as if she very well may have gone the whole night without sleeping a wink and cried throughout. "I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Constance shook her head, reaching for both of her daughter's hands. "Don't say that, Maura. You are the same incredibly smart, kind person that you were before. Feeling the way you do about Jane doesn't change all that." She squeezed Maura's hands, trying to underline that point, and Maura was looking at her like she dared not believe what she was hearing. "Maura. I understand that Jane must be frightened. Surely you can empathize with that."

"We had dinner together and she told me one of her friend's… one of her father's friend's _wives _flirted with her."

Well, this was a surprising direction. "What?"

"Yes. She told me before we even kissed, how… uncomfortable it made her. And how she didn't think it was right. I tried to tell her what you said, what Kinsey said, about those feelings being natural. But I don't think she believed it, believed me."

"Well dear, that's most likely because she'd never heard anyone defend it before," Constance said patiently. "It isn't what she knows. It isn't what _most _people know. This is the world we live in, Maura. Men marry women and live in comfortable neighborhoods with members of their own races. Men go to work and do their jobs, and women stay at home, cheering on in the sidelines and raising the family. That is how generations have done it, and that is the model Jane finds herself required to respect. Tradition is very difficult to break. From that perspective, she sees it as wrong to feel anything more than friendship towards another girl, another woman."

Maura choked down another sob and threw an arm around Constance, burying her face into her shoulder. "I hate this."

"Being in love can be painful enough on its own," Constance said. "I can't imagine what you're going through. I just want you to always remember this, Maura, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise: your feelings are not sinful ones. We can't help who we love."

Maura had never known pain like this, like someone was trying to gut her with a dull knife. It was an unceasing ache, lessened only slightly by knowing somebody was in her corner. That wasn't enough, though. For every ounce of assurance her mother provided, Maura was overwhelmed with the grief that the world she lived in was not prepared to happily accept or even validate her feelings. Her own father would probably sneer at them or reprimand her for them. It was beyond unfair and beyond hurtful.

As Maura experienced more and more of what the world had to offer, she found herself understanding it less and less. Typically she could appreciate (if not agree with) certain morals and standards and laws that were in place. But something like this, where no one was hurt and nothing was lost? How could it be wrong?

She barely realized she was speaking aloud when she asked, "How can you love someone and not be able to be with them?"

The plaintive desperation in her tone was what finally got Constance teary-eyed. "I don't know, dearest," she admitted. She kissed the top of Maura's head and held her closer. "I don't know."

For what felt like a long while, they sat there holding each other, exchanging no more words. The only thing that sounds in the room were of Maura's occasional, short sobs and Constance's attempts to stifle her own tears. Even as a young child, Maura had never fallen prey to the concept that parents were all-knowing. She knew her schoolmates believed that there was certain knowledge and abilities that inherently came with adulthood, but Maura could never understand that notion. Her parents never instinctively seemed to know what she'd needed, like her classmates' mothers and fathers did. Maura had never asked for much, and resultantly, her parents—unsure of what they were really doing—didn't try to take initiative when they didn't see the need. Her loneliness was mistaken for independence, and her lack of friends was perceived as anti-social behavior, not the giving up of a very bright and devoted girl who'd finally stopped trying after years of being shut-down.

Constance couldn't help feeling that, as the first person in years to treat Maura like she was somebody, Jane had inadvertently become the sole recipient of Maura's years of pent-up affection. She did not doubt that the attraction Maura felt was very real, but wondered if maybe Maura had been unable to keep from telling Jane—in such an emotional and intense way—how she felt, because she had never really had a close friend before. Those social mores were lost on her.

"This is all I know," Constance said. "And this is all I can tell you. There are so many wrongs in our world, Maura. There is plenty that is good and right, but unfortunately, injustice is also prevalent. The good news is that people are fighting to change that. I tell you again, you are not alone. I want you to tell me whatever you think I can do to help you, and in that vein, I have a proposal for you."

"What is it?"

"Your aunt has invited us to spend Christmas with her family in Paris. We wouldn't be leaving for a couple of weeks, of course, but if you go back to school tomorrow and feel that for whatever reason, it might do you well to spend the holiday away from Jane, we'll commission a ride there."

"You don't want to stay?"

"It's neither here nor there, darling. But when you are ready, I would encourage you to try talking to Jane about this. I know you're hurt. But she must be, too."

A few moments later, Maura finally sat all the way up and said she'd like to take a shower to clear her head. Constance let her be, and Maura went into a more leisurely version of her morning routine. Fortunately she had plenty of work to do during the day to keep her busy, with many due dates for end-of-semester assignments coming up. Between certain pieces of work, she would lose herself in books, trying to distance herself from the painful events of last night as much as possible.

Before falling into bed last night, she had pulled Jane's locket from around her neck and thrown it hard into the wastebasket by her bed. After finishing an essay for her American literature class, Maura went and fished the locket out from her garbage. It pained her to see that it had sustained a small nick from where it had crashed into the side of her tin wastebasket. It still looked lovely, though. She stuck it in the top drawer of her nightstand, ready to get it out again if she and Jane could successfully talk this through.

But she couldn't bring herself to talk yet. She wasn't ready.

It was difficult, though, not knowing for sure what Jane was going through right now. Did she have anyone she could talk to? Anyone she could trust? Might she show up at the Isles home in a drunken stupor again?

Just after school would have gotten out, Maura came downstairs fully dressed and asked permission to borrow the family car. As the roads were still a tad icy, Edward asked if he might be allowed to take her where she needed to go, and ultimately she relented. He seemed a little wary when they wound up stopping outside a rather shady-looking area, but Maura insisted it was the right place, and there they waited. Several teenagers walking by gave the car some surprised looks, and Edward couldn't help making his discomfort known, but Maura told him to relax.

"There he is," she whispered, almost to herself, then instructed Edward to stay put. "Barry!" she called, getting out of the car.

He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised and collar turned up against the cold. "Oh, Maura, right? Jane's friend?"

"Maura Isles, yes," she said. "I'm so sorry to stake you out like this, but I wasn't sure where you went to school or how else I might get a hold of you."

Frost was going to say she could have easily just asked Jane, but he thought it was a little strange to begin with that she'd wanted to flag him down at all. They had only met once before, and he'd have been very surprised to hear that Jane talked to Maura about him as incessantly as she talked to him about Maura.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked, looking unsure.

"I just need a small favor, regarding Jane. I… well, I know she tends to drink when she's upset, and as there's no alcohol in her home and she's too young to buy it—and, well, from what she's told me—I know she drinks with you."

"Er…yeah," he said, now looking even more uncomfortable. Was she calling him out on it? "I'm, uh, I mean my mother doesn't really mind 'cause I don't do it in excess, but um…" Something about Maura's face made him want to be honest, and he smiled guiltily. "Or what she knows won't hurt her, right?"

"It could hurt Jane," Maura said. "Something—don't make her tell you about it, but something happened last night that really upset her and I'm worried that she's going to try and drown it down."

"What's wrong, is she okay?"

"I don't know, I'm just worried about what might happen. Please, Barry, don't let her have anything. Don't indulge her, please."

Though he still looked severely uncomfortable, Frost promised to do his best and Maura went away feeling a little more secure. Edward didn't press her for details, and she didn't offer any. When they got home, it was to see Tommy and Sumner engaged in a very brutal-looking snowball fight next door. The action halted when Maura got out of the car, and Tommy hurried over.

"Hey Maura! We missed you at school today," he said. "You feeling okay? Just get back from the doctor?"

"I'm feeling a little better now," she said by way of reply.

"Here, Jane wanted me to give you…" He dug around in his pocket, and for a heart-stopping moment, Maura hoped (and feared) that it would be a note. Instead, he held out his gloved fist, and Maura opened her palm. He dropped some hairpins in her hand and said, "I guess you took these out at our house last night and forgot 'em, and Jane didn't see you at school, so…"

Maura was disappointed, but Tommy didn't notice. "Oh. And I suppose you were on your way over here anyway, so you volunteered to bring them?"

"Yeah, that's what happened. I…hope that's all right."

"Of course. Thank you for bringing them to me, Tommy."

He was about to ask her if she'd be interested in maybe getting dinner that week, but she walked away just then and it seemed that she didn't want to be further disturbed. So, with a sad shrug, he turned around and just barely ducked a snowball from Sumner.

As it transpired, Maura's intuition about Jane was entirely correct. After getting home from school and taking Jo Friday out, Jane headed over to Frost's neighborhood. She didn't exactly plan on telling him anything, but what she really needed right now was a good friend to talk to, and he was the only person who fit the bill.

"Hey, stranger," he said when she knocked on his door. "Long time, no see!"

"C'mon," she scoffed, stepping inside.

"I'm not taking anything personal," he said lightly. "You've just been spending a lot of time with that kid Maura lately, is all."

Jane had to roll her eyes at Frost calling someone only two years younger than them a "kid." But she chose not to comment on it, especially considering that he was just teasing her and seemed to be in good spirits. When she veered towards the refrigerator, he grabbed her by the arm and said, "C'mere, I wanna show you something."

He led her to a little shed by their complex, too small to be much of a garage. Inside was a fairly beat-up motorcycle, but for the look in Jane's eyes, it might have been brand now. "Whose is this?" she gasped. "Don't tell me it's yours, Frost!"

"Not really. My mom's friend Robin brought it over a few days ago. I guess it came into her possession, but she's not really sure what she wants to do with it yet. Needs some repairs," he said, needlessly pointing to the busted headlight. "And I guess it's had some engine trouble, too. She just wanted a place to keep it while she found someone who'd give her a good price for fixing it up."

"It's a Harley, right?" Jane asked, sliding her hand reverently over the seat.

Frost grinned. "Yup. A '54 Hydra-glide. Go ahead, Rizzoli, take a seat."

He knew she'd only been waiting for an invitation, and she gleefully accepted it. While she didn't much care for the bright yellow color of the bike, it felt like more of a comfortable fit than Joey's had been. Gripping the handlebars tightly, she pretended to rev it up, and Frost laughingly said all she needed now were some Ray-Bans.

"I've got a pair," Jane said, her smile faltering. "Maura gave some around Thanksgiving."

"Early Christmas present?"

"Eh. Sort of. You think Robin's gonna keep this bike?"

"If not, I'll put in a good word for you. I'm sure she'd be willing to sell it to any friend of mine for a good price. Lately she's been doing anything she can to get into my good graces."

"Yeah? Is that unusual?"

He shrugged and leaned against the wall of the shed. "Usually she didn't pay me much attention, I guess. Sometimes I kinda preferred it that way. Y'know, 'cause that meant my mom usually wasn't hanging on me so hard. But I dunno, I guess the attention's all right."

"They around right now?"

"Nope."

Jane swung her leg over the bike and started walking for the door. "Great, 'cause I could really use a drink."

Frost jogged to catch up to her. "Uh, Jane? I was thinkin' maybe we shouldn't."

"What, you going sober on me, Frost?" she laughed, walking back through his door.

"No, I just mean I think maybe… uh… well, the drinking age exists for a reason, right? So maybe we should back off a little."

He didn't sound terribly convinced, and his tone made it clear that he was trying not to let something slip. Jane eyed him suspiciously, and he wouldn't quite meet her gaze. "All right, Frost, spill it. What is it?"

"We're out."

"Well then, let's get some more."

He sighed heavily. "Jane? Maura came by here earlier."

That got her attention. "What? She was here? When?"

"Right when I was getting back from school. It was a bit on the creepy side, actually," Frost said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Jane remained standing in the doorway, staring him down. "She was just parked in there in her Bentley, and I was wondering who the heck would be doing that when she just jumped out to talk to me. She said …she said something had happened last night that might've upset you, and she didn't want you to go overboard and drink." He cowered a little under the intensity of her incredulous stare. "Don't shoot the messenger, please!"

"That's rich," she grunted. "Where's she come off trying to tell me what to do, huh?"

"Don't be stupid, Jane. She was just worried for you. We both know you can get a little agitated when you drink…"

"What, you sayin' I can't handle my liquor?"

"I'm saying maybe it'd just be a good idea to try and keep it down, Jane."

"Frost, you know me! Do I ever get drunk on weekdays?"

"Er…no…"

"Right! Why would I now?"

"I dunno, maybe if you were _real _upset about something. You wanna talk about whatever happened?"

"No, I don't wanna talk about what happened!" Jane said sharply. "I just wanted to take it easy after a long day and share drink with my buddy, that's all! If you're not interested, that's fine, I'll go someplace else."

She was already heading for the front door, and Frost jumped up to stop her. "Wait, Jane, c'mon."

But she was gone and had slammed the door before he could even make it out of the kitchen. Part of him felt like it was his duty to go after her, but he was annoyed that she was taking out her problem on him when he felt he'd done nothing to warrant it. He'd done as Maura asked and kept her from drinking at his place—what she did now wasn't his problem. He wasn't about to go run to catch up and beg her forgiveness like some pathetic caricature. Once she'd cooled off a bit, she'd come back.

Jane wasn't even really sure where she was going when she found herself getting called over by a policeman. It took her a second, but then she recognized him as one of the men who'd been at the Sullivans' Thanksgiving party. He was waving to her from the steps of the Boston Police Department, and while she normally would've avoided someone she barely knew when she was in one of these moods, she felt strangely open to the idea of talking to this guy.

"Didn't recognize you with the uniform on," she said.

"Hi, kid. Remind me your name?"

"Jane Rizzoli."

"Right, Jane Rizzoli! BCU-bound, right?"

"Hoping so. Detective…?"

"Korsak. Just stepped outside for a little break," he said, pulling out a cigarette box. "Cold as Alaska out here, kid! Where you headed?"

"No place," she said, shrugging.

"Hm. Rebel without a cause, huh?"

"No, sir. Just no particular place to go."

"Big-shot, huh?" he asked good-naturedly. "How's Jo Friday coming along? That was your Pop she got sent home with, right? You can tell him the plumbing's been A-okay since he worked on it."

"He'll be glad to know. Jo's been great, sir. Thank you."

"Ah, she's a good pup. Kinda miss having her around the precinct sometimes."

"I can bring her over to visit, if you want."

"Hey, that'd be swell, kid!"

Jane tried not to laugh. It just seemed funny to her that a big, tough police officer like Korsak would be so interested in a tiny little dog like Jo Friday. He seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of getting to see Jo again, and that warmed Jane's heart a bit. Something occurred to her.

"Uh, sir? I was just wondering something. You said you introduced Mr. del Rossi to his wife, right?"

"Sure did. Fine girl."

"Mm-hm. How'd you know her?"

"I have an enlisted brother who said she was the finest navy mechanic he knew. WAC's still active, even after wartime, you know."

"How'd you get it in your head to introduce them?"

He looked curiously at her, trying to figure what she was getting at. The kid was fidgeting, although that may just have been from the cold. "Have they been having marital problems?" he asked. "I know del Rossi's a bit her senior, but—"

"Oh no, sir, no!" Jane said quickly. "I didn't mean anything like that. I was just um, just wondering. That's all."

"Oh. Well kid, blindly matching people up isn't always easy. I just knew the two of 'em were both fixing up for something the other could provide, and… something unique, I mean."

_You know, don't you_.

_Were you trying to help, because you knew they would understand each other? Or did you think they were the cure for each other? _

_Or do you mean something else entirely?_

"You want a ride home, Rizzoli? You look pretty cold."

She was about to take him up on it (wondering if maybe he wanted an excuse to see Jo), but ultimately shook her head. She just wanted to be on her own to think for a while, and besides, he was a detective. Perhaps her fear was irrational, but she couldn't help worrying that if they talked any longer, he might figure out why Jane was so interested in learning about Roxie del Rossi's situation. After what had happened with Maura, she certainly wasn't ready to talk about the implications with anyone yet—especially not with a near-stranger.

Especially not when she hadn't even tried speaking to Maura yet.


	28. Lipstick On My Collar

**A/N**: Thanks again for the continued support, everyone. I just...I dunno, I really do feel like this is how they would react in this time period and this situation. I've always thought Maura would be mature for her age, and Jane's overemotional defensiveness would just be amplified. They are going to be together. I just don't like when things are too easily or smoothly resolved.I'm going to be extremely busy this upcoming week, but hopefully I will be able to update at the end of it! Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

The next day, Jane started to worry that Maura seemed to have ditched school again. But just after returning from lunch, she spotted Maura walking out of Dr. Sluckey's classroom on Garrett's arm. Incidentally Garrett was steering them in Jane's direction, and while she panicked, Jane couldn't help noticing something: for the first time since she'd gotten it, Maura was not wearing Jane's locket. Not that she blamed her. Maura was smiling at Garrett, but it didn't look entirely sincere. She was a bit pale, she looked tired.

Their eyes met just before they passed each other, and Maura's smile dropped. The look she threw Jane was so loaded with anger, sadness, and hurt that it actually made Jane came to a stop. Garrett and Maura continued on their way and Jane stared numbly after them, wishing a great many things: that Maura would turn to look at her, that she herself would run after her, that either of them could think of something to say. Partly wishing she could sock Garrett in the face and tackle him with a cheering crowd surrounding them …the fight would get broken up by the principal, perhaps, and Maura would insist on tending Jane's wounds herself…

It was a pretty fantasy (at least to Jane), but was crushed by the overwhelming solemnity of her reality. She had no idea to proceed from here, flying blind.

As if this weren't enough to be stressing over, Jane was starting her new job today. She'd gotten a call last night informing her that she had secured a position on the staff at the Skylark Country Club, something she couldn't help wondering if the Isles had helped out with. Last weekend had been the starting date she had offered, and today she would be getting her first slice of real uppercrust life. Actually, anxious as she was about it, she was sort of glad for the distraction from Maura. Concentrating on her new job would be good for her.

Angela gave her a ride to Skylark after school, and Jane nearly yelped when she saw the del Rossi's walking out of the club. On instinct she slid down in her seat, praying the couple wouldn't notice them, but of course Angela could be counted upon to want to pull over and chat—which was inevitable.

Passing the Rizzoli's and del Rossi's into the club were Garrett and his brother Adam, who was home on a break from college. Adam glared at Roxie as they passed, and for the first time, Jane saw a look of nervousness flit across that otherwise smugly confident face. Oblivious to this exchange, Garrett whistled in appreciation, and Roxie smiled at him.

"Don't waste your time," Adam snorted, lightly slapping the back of his brother's head as they kept walking.

"Did you see that bombshell? Wow!" Garrett laughed. "What a beaut!"

"Trust me, Garrett, you're not her type."

"You know her personally?"

"Yeah," Adam said stiffly. "I had a buddy who used to go around with one of her suitemates. Ole Roxanne is a strange breed, kid. She likes women."

Garret's jaw dropped, and he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "That chick is one of those?! Not a chance. You must be kiddin'."

"Take my word for it, kid."

"Ah, you're pulling my leg," Garrett said cheerfully. "Women like that don't exist—or are you gonna try telling me it's another one of those things you've picked up at college, that I'm just too naïve to understand?"

"Nobody in his right mind _wants _to understand those things, Garrett, but that's how they are."

"Nah. It's nothing they can't help! All any girl who thinks that way needs is a _real _man, yessir," he sighed, slapping his own chest as if to volunteer. "That'd put 'em on the right track in a hurry. I mean any man who knows the first thing about women could lay any dame he wanted."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you're the big expert, huh?"

"You bet! Wait'll you see the swell girl I've been going around with lately, Adam, she's a pip."

"Like Roxie, huh?"

"Aw, you don't know anything, college man. Any girl who doesn't like men is either a virgin, or someone who got mishandled by some creepy in a back alley or someplace. All she needs is a little gentling."

Adam laughed and clapped his brother on the back as they headed for the indoor tennis court. "You always were good with horses."

Roxie's unexpected presence had thrown Jane off her game, and she struggled to get through the workday. Fortunately she managed to avoid running into anyone else she knew as she stuck to waitressing. The job itself wasn't particularly difficult, but she found her temper was harder to control as she accommodated members who were used to a certain level of respect and cheerfulness. She burned with resentment at each person who walked in, everything about them from their clothes to their perfect hair and teeth reeking of old money. This was definitely not like the summer she had worked at an Italian Ices shop, where the customers were friendly and engaging and polite. These people barely acknowledged her, except to scowl when she didn't move quickly enough.

It didn't help that every so often, an impeccably dressed young woman with light brown hair would walk into the restaurant area, and Jane would stumble in fear that it was Maura, catching her off guard. So much for the job getting the girl off her mind. And for all the fear that Jane felt at the possibility of Maura waltzing in at any moment, a sliver of her also hoped for it, that chance run-in. She could not foresee actively seeking out Maura, especially after the look she'd received in the hallway that day. No wonder she was so slow at work: she kept getting distracted by her thoughts. Fortunately, her boss wrote it off as an adjustment period and she was merely asked to pick it up a bit when she next came in for a shift.

"Oh, Jane," said her boss, as she passed the woman to get to the changing room. (She was in Skylark's official sky-blue uniform, a dress that was cut a little too cutely for her style and uncomfortably pointed black shoes.) "One of our members wanted make sure you got this."

It was a small brown package, the size of a small book, and Jane's heart leapt at the mention of a member. "Maura?" she guessed, out loud, to her immediate embarrassment.

"No, a Mrs. del Rossi."

Confused, Jane walked back into the changing room, wondering when Roxie could have had the time to get this in without her seeing it. Maybe she'd left with her husband, then drove back and dropped the gift off with someone at the gate? That must be it, as she'd never have known otherwise that Jane worked here. Jane looked carefully around the small room and peeked into the bathroom stall to make sure nobody was around before she quickly opened the package.

It was a book, all right: a pulpy-looking paperback called _Odd Girl Out_. The cover featured two women—a brunette lying stomach-down on a bed, looking distraught, and a blonde hovering over her, touching her arm. _That could be me and Maura_, she thought, dumbstruck. What might've been a tagline on the corner of the cover promised: "_A confession of love—as shocking—and as honest—as SPRING FIRE!" _Not realizing it was the title of an older novel with a similar story, Jane assumed "spring fire" to be some odd sort of metaphor, but she didn't linger over it.

Her grip tightened on the book. This was a romance novel. Roxie had left her a pulp piece about two women. Excitement was diluted by anxiety as she tried to think of a safe place she could keep this, let alone read it. Her room was subject to frequent raids by Angela, who had a habit of finding many things Jane tried hiding—and she thought she'd been fairly creative, too. She'd taken to hiding cigarette packs and a small flask at Frost's, but this was something she could never give him.

"_Oh, uh, y'know, just some light reading!" _Nope. Definitely not.

A branch hit the window, and Jane jumped so badly she dropped the book, fearing it had been the sound of the door opening. She hurriedly opened her locker so she could change, knowing her mother was probably outside the club waiting for her. It occurred to her that maybe she could store the book in her locker here, but she just as quickly realized that they were probably searched regularly. It was too much of a risk.

Looked like she'd just have to keep it on her person at all times.

With the book hidden at the bottom of her purse, Jane bolted from the club. Running along the odd patch of snow, she nearly fell twice as she sprinted towards her mother's car. It was not, however, her mother in the driver's seat.

"Frankie?" she said, stepping in.

"Had to get outta there," he muttered. "Wanna go get a cocoa, or something?"

"What's going on at home?"

"Ma's on the warpath."

"Geez, Frankie, what'd you do this time?"

"_I _didn't do anything," Frankie said, and apparently the situation was serious because he didn't even acknowledge the teasing tone of Jane's voice. "I got home and Ma and Pop were in a screaming match. I haven't heard one like it in years, I swear. I forgot they even used to have 'em."

Jane was starting to get worried. "Well are you gonna leave me hanging, or will you tell me what happened?"

"Ma found lipstick on the collar of one of Pop's shirts. And apparently, it was as colorful as the language she used when she chewed him out, 'cause you know she doesn't ever wear anything noticeable." He kept talking, his eyes on the road and not his sister's face, so he missed the color draining out of it. "I guess she'd been about to take care of the laundry, and she found it lying in the hamper. Can you believe that? I can't get over Pop doing something so dumb, leaving it right in the open like that!"

Normally Jane might have felt a twinge of moral outrage that Frankie seemed more upset that their father had been caught, not that he'd been cheating. But it was hard to think of anything else when she realized the shirt Angela had found was the one she, Jane, had been wearing the night she and Maura had made out. Jane had been so insistent on keeping up the façade that she'd borrowed one of her father's shirts, and then tossed it away without thinking when her parents came home unexpectedly.

And now Angela thought her husband was having an affair because of Maura's lipstick.

"Frankie, listen to me. We've gotta go home and you've gotta tell Ma that it's your shirt."

"What?!"

"Tell her—I dunno, tell her you borrowed one of Pop's shirts for a night out or something, and it's Riley's lipstick!"

"And have her get on my case for going that far with a girl? You're nuts!"

"Frankie, it's nothing! It's a little lipstick—most you'll get is a lecture, and then it'll be over by tomorrow! Ma thinks Pop is having an affair—"

"Well Jane, he _is_," Frankie said seriously. "I mean, he's gotta be if there was lipstick on his collar that doesn't belong to Ma. How else would it get there?"

And now he sounded a little incredulous, as if the notion of their father cheating _did _bother him. Jane tried fervently to keep from getting hysterical, an issue she wasn't quite sure she'd ever suffered before. "Frankie? Listen to me. Whoever this lipstick belongs to… Pop was keeping it secret for a reason, right? I'm sure it's no big deal. I'm sure it's _nothing_. You know Ma; she likes to be dramatic about stuff."

Frankie glanced over at Jane like she'd been speaking in a foreign language. "You don't think it's warranted in this case?"

She hated lying to her brother, but it was better than their parents getting into major brawls over something Angela was justified in believing but Frank was guiltless of doing. "Frankie, c'mon. Ma won't ever look at Pop the same if she thinks she can't trust him in… this area. They're gonna fight a lot more often because she's not gonna be able to ever trust him again. Think how crazy that's gonna make him, and how much more it'd chase him away!" Frankie still looked unsure, and Jane did something she rarely stooped to: she begged. "Please, little brother. Do it for me."

He decided he really didn't like hearing his sister use that piteous tone of voice. It unnerved him. Desperate Jane was not a Jane he was accustomed to, and he'd do just about anything to make her go away.

"Please, Frankie. _Please_."

"Why should I take the heat for Pop, huh?"

"It's like I said! It'll take a load off of all of us! Yeah, Pop'll be angry that Ma jumped to conclusions, but all will be forgiven tomorrow if they write it off as a misunderstanding."

"Well…so you mean we should just let Pop keep doing whatever he's doing?"

"Maybe it was a one-time thing," Jane half-heartedly suggested. "We're just giving him the benefit of the doubt, okay? Please, Frankie."

Curse that puppy dog look she so often got.

They returned home to learn that Frank had left in a huff not too long ago. Jane made her way upstairs as Frankie entered the kitchen to take the fall for the lipstick on the collar, and as he blushingly explained that he and Riley had gotten a little carried away one night, he tried in vain to decipher his mother's expression. She looked hollow somehow, and though her eyes were on him, it was like she wasn't really seeing him. The argument with Frank seemed to have taken everything out of her, and Frankie couldn't help thinking that she hadn't boxed his ears yet simply because she was so relieved at the thought that her husband _hadn't _been cheating.

Jane, meanwhile, had shut herself inside her room and instantly dug out Roxie's book. Flinging onto her bed, she opened eagerly to the first chapter and started to read. An overbearing sense of _I-could-get-caught-any-second _was keeping her from being able to fully appreciate it, though; she found herself reading the same lines more than once. With a sigh of impatience, she started flipping through the pages to try and find the scene promised by the cover of the book. She didn't care who these characters were as people. All she needed right now was the reassurance that other women existed who read and wrote these stories, who found inspiration in them, perhaps—

Oh, there it was.

Jane bit her lip and felt like her eyes might burn the cheap paper of the page as she read about Laura and Beth finally succumbing to their desires. The words nearly blurred, Jane was trying to absorb them so quickly. She couldn't help it, she couldn't help picturing herself and Maura in this scenario, and every part of her started to ache with longing.

She forgot decency. She forgot apologies that needed to be made. She forgot conversations they needed to have and problems they needed to discuss. All she could focus on in that moment was how it had felt to have Maura's lips on her skin and Maura's legs around her waist and Maura thrusting her hips over and down repeatedly as they had kissed.

One hand had been about to sneak between her legs when her door burst open. She flailed and dropped the book behind her bed, a rather comical move that Tommy failed to notice as he brightly addressed his sister:

"Winter carnival in Concord! Wanna come?"

She'd been so caught off guard and terrified that she didn't process his words at first. "What?"

"There's a big carnival in Concord going on right now. Remember how I was grounded during ours? Sumner and I are gonna go!"

"Isn't that peachy," Jane muttered. "It's a school night, T. Ma and Pop will never let you."

"Pop's out at the pool hall, and we can just tell Ma we're going to a friend's house to study or something," Tommy said with a shrug. "C'mon, we'll be back before they even miss us! Frankie can't go out, Ma didn't say why, but you could take us!"

"Take you?" Jane groaned. "What—come on, can't you catch a bus or something?"

"No! You know those aren't reliable, Jane. And they might not run late enough. Maura and Garrett are going!"

"Great, why doesn't one of 'em drive you?"

"Garrett wants to take her _alone_," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "Y'know, in his own car. But we could meet up with them there, I'm sure. Come on, Jane, please? We'll just tell Ma we're headed to the library and she'll never be the wiser!"

Asking for privacy under pretense of getting changed, Jane grabbed _Odd Girl Out _and stuffed it inside one of her heavier schoolbooks, itself thrown into her bag in her bottom drawer. That ought to keep it out of Angela's clutches for the night.

Jane felt guilty for taking advantage of her mother's troubled state, but the urge to see Maura was too great. Angela didn't even question Tommy's sudden interest in academia on a school night, half-heartedly waving the kids off. Driving her brother and his best friend to Concord wound up being the longest half hour of Jane's life, even if she drove over the speed limit, and it probably also had something to do with the fact that a girl she very seriously craved might be waiting at the end of this car ride. Again she found excitement and terror fighting for control of her insides, with no clear victor as they reached the carnival at Concord. It almost looked like a circus with all the tents pitched to protect various rides in case of a sudden snowfall, though none had come in the past couple of days.

And there, standing near a vendor, were Maura and Garrett with two bags of popcorn, keeping close together. Upon seeing Jane, Maura's eyes went wide and she looked quickly for an escape, but Sumner and Tommy had already run up and made that quite impossible.

"Looks like you fellas found us!" Garrett said, tipping his bag at Sumner and pointing out the obvious. "Well done. Hi, Jane."

"Hey," she said. She nodded at Maura. "Hi."

Maura cleared her throat, not meeting Jane's eye. "Hello."

"Quite a set-up here, isn't it?" Garrett asked, leading the way further into the grounds. "I have to say, I'm impressed!"

Sumner laughed and nudged Tommy's elbow, pointing at a Tunnel of Love. "Hey, how much you wanna bet that Frankie and his girl would go in there on a loop if they were here?"

"Sure!" Tommy snickered. "They love corny stuff like that!"

"Kid stuff," Sumner agreed. "If a guy wants to get a girl, he oughtta be brave enough to do it out in the open."

"Speaking of brave," said Garrett, nodding at the nearby Tilt-a-Whirl. "Take a look at that thing! It's gotta be twice the size of the one we had in Boston! Wanna go for a spin, Maura?"

Jane looked at her curiously, knowing Maura didn't have the stomach for such a ride. If she was desperate enough to go on it if it meant avoiding Jane, that would send quite a message. But, "I'm sorry, Garrett, I don't think I can. It'll make me nauseous!"

"Aw, that's too bad."

"Don't let that stop you from going on it, though," Maura said. "I'm sure the rest of us can find a way to amuse ourselves in the meanti—"

"You're on your own!" Sumner said, taking off in direction of the enormous ride. Tommy was quick to follow, and shrugging at Maura, Garrett followed suit and promised to go on anything else she wanted afterwards.

_This could be my only chance. _Although it seemed Maura hadn't planned on being left more or less alone with Jane, that was the situation they found themselves in, and Jane wasn't about to waste the opportunity. With a would-be casual shrug, she nodded in the direction of the Tunnel of Love. "Wanna go for a ride?"

As ever, Jane was a master at masking her emotions. Or, in this case, her intentions. Maura had wanted to be so firm in her decision not to be swayed by those deep brown eyes, or the way Jane often rose her eyebrows with gentle-yet-heart-crushing hope. In the end, it was overwhelming curiosity that won Maura over—curiosity to know what was in Jane's head, what she was after—and she finally offered a stiff nod in reply to Jane's off-the-cuff invitation.

They were far from being the only girls in line who would be riding together. A boy and a girl who were just friends were wary of the implications of going on such a ride together, and thus most boys without dates tended to stay away. Girls were generally much less squeamish. If nothing else, they appreciated the rest and quiet offered by the ride, as well as the chance to maybe tease their friends in line a bit. So, nobody blinked an eye when Jane and Maura stepped into a boat together and were sent on their way.

For a few heart-pounding moments, Maura thought maybe Jane had just wanted to find a place to talk where they could be alone. But as they entered the tunnel, it occurred to her that there were a myriad of places they could have gone to talk and be uninterrupted. Surely here, the darkness was the key.

It quickly became obvious that this had been a keen observation.

The tunnel was pitch black, leaving Maura without her sense of sight. But she could feel Jane pressed right up next to her, and Jane whispered directly in her ear: "Can you stay quiet?"

Context was not a question. "I think so," she said back in a shuddering breath.

"Then do it. Don't say a thing unless you want me stop, okay? And I will, I promise."

Maura nodded, then realized Jane wouldn't be able to see. "Okay," she whispered.

Jane brushed Maura's hair over her shoulder, holding it back as she leaned in slowly. She kissed Maura's neck just below her ear, and could feel Maura's breath catch in response. Accordingly, she pressed her lips with a little more pressure.

The darkness kept them from seeing, but not from knowing where and how their bodies should meet. Jane sensed where her hands should fall; they were both on Maura's hips as the girls sat sideways on the seats, facing each other. The boat gently rocked them, the sound of moving water not doing much to drown out Maura's staggered breathing, or her occasional whimper.

Jane didn't realize it, but she wasn't exactly being silent, either. Her breathing was heavier than normal, but also, she couldn't help moaning at how… _good _Maura tasted. If she wasn't so scared, Jane would've prepared to get on her knees and worship this girl.

"J…Jane…"

The response was gruff, hot in her ear: "What?"

"Kiss me."

The words had hardly left her mouth before Jane was on it, and it was a powerful kiss. One hand grasped the back of Maura's head, and this time Jane didn't waste any time teasing: she went right ahead and plunged her tongue into Maura's eager mouth, swirling it around hers. At this move, Maura actually sat up off the seat for a moment, her hands then anxiously sweeping up to clasp around Jane's neck. She tried to pull Jane as close as was physically possible, and Jane reciprocated for as long as her patience would allow.

Finally she shifted her hands back down to Maura's hips, pulling her roughly onto her lap. Maura let out a sharp gasp as Jane repositioned her, putting one knee between her legs.

"Move it up," Jane whispered, her hands drifting towards Maura's backside.

Maura hadn't quite heard what Jane had said, but she didn't need to; on instinct, she drove her knee forward, all but ramming it in between Jane's legs. A chill went down her spine at the sound of the deep "_mmm_" that rumbled from Jane's throat, surely what would have been a loud groan if Maura hadn't been quick to recapture Jane's lips in a kiss.

Their tongues had met again, and Maura was persistently shifting her leg in between Jane's. "Good" was no longer adequate to describe how this felt.

_Oh God, __yes__—!_

There was not a single part of Maura that didn't feel as if she were on fire—and she was doused with ice water when Jane abruptly pushed her away.

"Ride's gonna be over in a second," Jane said, her voice raspy. She took out a handkerchief and wiped hurriedly at her face in case any of Maura's lipstick had smeared onto it.

Blindly attempting to do the same, Maura felt her face burning with shame. Not for what they had done, but for being so desperate that she had allowed Jane to trap her into this again. Tears of guilt and embarrassment started to fall from her eyes, and with her failed attempt to stifle a sniff, Jane glanced over.

"Maura." Her voice was soft, gentle as her touch as she put a hand on Maura's shoulder. Less evident was the self-loathing that had instantly snatched hold of her. Not for how she felt, but for how she had just used this girl she cared so much about. _That wasn't okay. It wasn't okay. Tell her you know that and you are ashamed of it and want to be so much better for her._

"Don't touch me!" Maura said sharply, pulling away.

Sufficiently cowed, Jane returned to her side of the boat. They were out of the tunnel a moment later, and the bright lights set up nearly blinded Jane. The assembled crowd at the exit was too busy cheering/jeering at the boy and girl who'd gotten out ahead of Jane and Maura to pay any attention to the two girls who were getting out together. Maura practically jumped out of the boat without waiting for it to come to a complete stop. The worker yelled, but she paid him no mind. She didn't even hear him. Jane hurried after her, nearly stumbling in her attempt to catch up. She had no idea what she'd say or do; all she knew was the couldn't just stand by and let Maura walk away again without an explanation.

But Maura beat her to the punch. Whisking suddenly around, she said in a very vicious tone, "_Don't _follow me! Leave me the hell alone!"

"Maura please, can we—"

"I can't believe I let you do this again," Maura said, clutching her forehead and laughing with incredulous disbelief. "I can't believe I was so desperate just now! How many more times is this going to happen?"

They were at the end of the fairgrounds and nobody was in sight, but Jane felt that even if they'd been in the middle of a crowd she'd have been ready to talk, and talk loudly. "Maura, that's just it! I d—I don't know what to do!" There were tears in her eyes, and her face looked so lost, so scared, that Maura's own justified anger abated just slightly. "You don't deserve to get treated like this; I-I'm sorry, I'm being… selfish. I just want you so bad."

The bold honesty of the statement caught Maura off guard, and she found herself unsure of how to properly respond. When in doubt, go to something you know.

"Bad_ly_."

"What?"

"You want me badly."

"Dammit, Maura," she muttered, stepping forward. She slid her hands onto either side of Maura's face and pulled her in for a hungry kiss. In spite of herself, Maura responded to it, but Jane broke it off fairly quickly. Still clutching Maura's face, Jane whispered, "I'm scared, Maura. I'm really, really scared."

Maura reached up for Jane's hands, holding them at the wrist. "I am too, Jane."

"But you were so…calm about it," Jane said. "I mean, when I told you about Roxie—the woman who flirted with me—you acted like it could be the most natural thing in the world. How could it scare you?"

"Because I know that not many people are as intelligent as I am," she said, and Jane couldn't help a weak laugh. "It's true! This train of thought—of belief, of _knowledge_—goes against the grain of mainstream society. And haven't you always been that way, Jane? Haven't you always been just a bit rough around the edges your mother tries to keep you to?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jane admitted, her voice shaky. She slipped her hands away from Maura's face, stuffing them into the pockets of her coat instead. "I just don't think this is the kind of thing either of my parents could turn a blind eye to."

"So…" Maura blinked and for a moment, the sounds of the carnival suddenly seemed amplified. It was a surreal experience, knowing there were people only several yards away who were not dealing with these problems, who were not weighed down with these concerns. A lengthy silence was established between the two of them, and when it seemed Jane was not going to respond, Maura finished by asking, "What are we going to do?"

Jane shook her head, lips clamped shut to avoid a sob from escaping her. "I don't know," she finally choked out. "I don't know."

"Well, what do you want?"

"What I want, Maura, it isn't possible."

"Me? You have me, Jane, just say it."

"But if I have you, I can't …I can't have it the way it should be, the way I want it to be. My parents, my brothers, they can't be happy that I found somebody I care about ten times more than myself, and I… Maura, what I want is to treat you right. And I think that means I've gotta be strong enough to let you go, because I'm n—I'm not strong right now. I'm not brave enough to be who I _should_ be for you."

Maura stood there stunned and numb, and it wasn't for the cold weather. She had just heard Jane say so many things she'd been dying to hear for months, but it was bookended by everything Maura had been afraid of hearing. Sometimes Jane made things sound so simple, yet she looked so tortured that Maura knew there was even more going on below the battle-weary surface Jane had already shown her.

"You are deceptively complex," Maura said wistfully. "I do not understand you."

"I think you do," Jane mumbled.

"You need somebody loving. Supportive. Are you brave enough to at least admit that?"

Above all other things, Jane Rizzoli loathed being called weak. But this was the first time she would ever be willing to own up that it was a title she might deserve.


	29. It Only Hurts For a Little While

**A/N**: Phew! Thanks for your patience, y'all. I have every intention of finishing this story - heck, the interesting stuff is just beginning! I am, however, going to be a bit busier from now on, so I may not be able to update as frequently as I used to. I'll still be here, though!

* * *

"Mm…mmmm…"

"Ohh…yeah."

"Mmph—Jane—"

"Shh, babe, it's okay."

Jane left a short kiss on the tip of Maura's earlobe, then moved back down to her neck, and Maura moaned softly again. That sound had quickly become Jane's favorite in the world to hear, bar none. One of her favorite things about it was how easy it was to elicit: it was as if they slipped from Maura all the more easily because she had spent so many months keeping them bottled up. In addition to that, being kissed by Jane was just so much …_more _than Maura ever thought she could have hoped for.

Not that she should have been surprised—Jane kissed like she did everything else in her life. There was an unashamed intensity to it, as had been the case even with their first kiss. Even with her misgivings about whether it was right or whether she could stick with it, she approached the actual act with confidence and bravado. Much of that came from feeling that as far as the kissing was concerned (not its ramifications), Jane knew she could do no wrong in Maura's eyes.

She was good at this, and she knew it.

They had walked just past the end of the fairgrounds, a secluded forested area that Jane had directed them towards. Maura was pushed up against a tree with Jane tight on top of her, hands settled on Maura's waist as Maura clutched at the back of Jane's head. She tugged upwards, harder than she'd meant to, but anxious to bring Jane up for a proper kiss. Jane eagerly rose to the challenge.

Talking about it made her nervous. That was why Jane had pushed them to a more private area, so they could resume the focus on physicality, and it was an escape. Feeling Maura's lips against her own was an escape. Registering Maura's increasing desperation for contact was an escape. The longer they kept at it, the more it ebbed away Jane's fears and concerns until they nearly disappeared.

Nearly.

"Jane?"

She pushed the conversation off again, thrusting her hips hard against Maura and earning another stifled moan.

"I've wanted this since the first time I laid my eyes on you," she whispered into Maura's ear. Maura felt engulfed in emboldening fire, and Jane kissed her, hard, again. "I'm sorry I was such a jackass to you for such a long time."

"I didn't understand it at first," Maura said, "and it really hurt. I do still wish you hadn't acted that way, but I see now that it was a natural reflex that would have been hard to suppress. You see, in the presence of a threat, the brain activity shifts from the ventromedial prefontal cortex—which controls decision-making—to the midbrain periaqueductal gray, which controls defensive behavior."

The technical terminology threw Jane for a second, but she got the gist pretty quickly. Her attraction to Maura had felt terribly threatening, quiet and polite and unassuming as the girl might have been. Feeling drawn to her like this threatened any semblance of societal normalcy Jane had been building up, it further threatened her stand with her family, it threatened to throw her life into more chaos and misunderstanding than ever before. Accordingly, Jane's defensive tactic had been to lash out, trying to nip it all in the bud. After all, as her father had told his children many times, the best defense was a good offense.

Maybe that was all right in the sports world, but it couldn't fly here. Not anymore.

"Do you think we should be getting back?" Maura asked, sounding wistful.

Jane pretended to at least think about it for a minute. "No."

"But Garrett—"

"To hell with Garrett." She went in for another kiss, easily obtained because the cavalier romance in her remark created a unique swooping sensation in Maura's stomach.

Still, Maura's senses returned to her and she broke it off fairly quickly. Jane looked severely put out. "Jane, they're going to be looking for us soon. Don't you think they'll be concerned we've gone missing?"

"Nah," Jane scoffed. "My brothers know I can take care of myself. And they'll tell Garrett that I'm capable of taking care of you, by extension."

"Still…"

"C'mon, five more minutes?"

"Jane."

She kissed Maura's neck again. "Two more minutes?"

Maura's knees buckled. "I…"

A kiss on her jaw. "One more minute."

"Well, how long have we—OH!" Maura gasped loudly when she glanced down at her watch. "Is this the time?!"

Jane checked her own. "Quarter to nine?"

"It was almost 7:30 when you got here, and when we got on the tunnel of love!" Maura cried. "We've been gone over an hour!"

"Ooookay, yeah, maybe we'd better head back," Jane agreed, feeling a little worried that time had escaped them so fast.

But she couldn't help smiling at the sight of Maura turning up her collar and buttoning it there to hide the hickeys Jane had left. Once this was done, Jane reached for Maura's hand and led the way back to the fairgrounds. The closer they got, the colder Maura started to feel, even though they were headed towards a larger concentration of people (and thus, logically, more warmth). Jane's closeness a minute ago had effectively kept her from remembering that it was in fact the middle of winter. Jane suggested they split up to look for their party, but Maura gripped her hand tighter.

"Don't let's separate," she said. "I don't want to get lost."

Jane smiled a little. "Okay, we'll look together." She led the way around the tunnel of love, hooking her arm through Maura's for extra assurance that they wouldn't lose each other. After a minute or so of carefully scouring the crowds, Jane conversationally said, "So! You and Garrett drive up in his Maserati?"

"Yes," Maura answered absent-mindedly, also doing her best to look through the throng of people. "I suppose it's a very nice car, isn't it?"

"I suppose the Pope is Catholic, isn't he?"

Maura rolled her eyes at Jane's teasing tone of voice. "Yes, well. Garrett's always liked the finer things in life."

"Sure, he likes you," Jane replied.

She smiled over at Maura, who looked back first in surprise, then a pleased sort of girlishness. "Oh, look," she said, pointing, and Jane expected to see Tommy or one of the Fairfields. Her gaze landed on an open tent that covered a photo booth. "Can we go, Jane? It won't take very long, and we can get right back to looking…"

"Hey, I'm not the one who needs to be convinced, remember?" Jane laughed, turning sharply to get into the tent.

They got onto the short line, and Maura started playing with her hair. "Do I look all right?"

"You look beautiful," Jane assured her.

Maura couldn't help smiling at the way Jane said it. It didn't come off as an empty compliment, or a throwaway remark made to acquiesce someone. Jane's words were genuine, and it was impossible not to feel it.

A few minutes later, they were able to step into the small booth, and Jane pulled the curtain closed. "All right, looks like we get four pictures on one strip. Smile pretty, Maura!"

Maura maintained a perfect posture and camera-ready smile for the first three photos, not really getting the concept of taking pictures in a photo booth. Jane grinned naturally for the first one, pretended to be screaming in horror in the second one, and made the weirdest face she could in the third. For their fourth and final picture, she decided to turn and kiss Maura on the cheek, which caused Maura to slump ever so slightly and for a more natural smile to slip into place.

The curtain was pulled open by the next person in line, and it felt like the end of something.

When the photo strip was printed a minute later, Maura snatched it up. Pointing to the final one, she said, "This is going into my locket."

"Good choice," Jane said with a grin. "Can I have one?"

"Of course! Take two."

"That's okay, I think I'll just take this one," Jane said, carefully tearing off the top picture, where both of them were smiling. They had walked outside the tent now, wandering a bit aimlessly instead of actively trying to find Garrett, Tommy, or Sumner. Jane was too busy staring at the picture to see where she was going, and once or twice Maura had to gently guide her out of someone's way. "I'll have to show this to Ma," she said. "Proof that in the right conditions, I _can _smile naturally for a picture."

They exchanged a grin at that, but the atmosphere was quickly broken up when Tommy rushed over to them. "Guys, over here!" he yelled. "Jane! Where've you been?!"

"How come you didn't meet us at the Tilt-a-whirl?" Sumner asked. "We were worried someone had kidnapped the two of you!"

"Geez, keep your shirts on!" Jane scowled. "Look, I just had to talk to Maura about something, all right?"

"About what?" Tommy asked.

"None of your business, twerp! It was girl talk. I'm sorry it took up time from your carnival." She looked apologetically at Garrett, who did not appear too pleased. "Er, really. I'm sorry. It's my fault, I lost track of the time."

Garrett cleared his throat and reached for Maura's arm, pulling her to him. "Well, can't say I blame you," he said bracingly. "Just try not to let it happen again, hm?"

"No sir," Jane said with a bit of a grimace, mock-saluting him.

"Don't give me that attitude," Garrett sneered. "Maura came as my date, and you just waltzed away with her, like your buddy-buddy time was more important than—"

"Hey pal, if being around Maura's so important to you, you shouldn't have ditched her to go on some ride you knew she wouldn't be up for!" Jane said back.

"What, we gonna get into a pissing contest about this now?" Garrett laughed. "We'd already spent some time here together already, and—wait, why am I explaining this to you? I don't have to. The carnival closes in a little under an hour, but Sumner here needs to be getting home now to meet his curfew. And you drove him here, right?"

"Jane, c'mon, we've got to be getting back, too," Tommy said uneasily, noticing that Jane looked ready to harshly reply.

With one arm around Maura, Garrett waved Jane off. "Get along, children."

"Jane," Maura said.

She held up a hand, turning around. "Forget it, Maura. It's fine. Tommy and I've got to get going, anyway." Jane stopped when she felt a light tug at her arm, and turned to see that Maura had grabbed a hold of her, looking concerned. Jane summoned up the best brave face she could, her smile slipping into another dark look when she glanced at Garrett.

For the drive back home, Tommy and Sumner chatted animatedly in the backseat while Jane kept silent up front, like she was their chauffer. She didn't feel like talking at the moment.

The fact that she had kissed Maura repeatedly was surreal. Unless she was actually doing it, she couldn't believe it had happened—that Maura _wanted _it to happen. There was no feeling on earth that could compare to Maura in her arms, kissing her, holding her…

But was this going to be the price?

How many times would they stumble out of some dark, hidden corner, only to have Maura taken away by some guy? How could Jane stand it when someone else stepped in to replace her on Maura's arm, only because it "looked" right, it "was" right? If she were a boy, she wouldn't have to stand for any of this. She would be Maura's, Maura's would be hers, and if Garrett Fairfield had a problem with that, Jane could sock him in the teeth and everyone would think her the better guy for it.

"_That's stickin' up for your girl, Janie_," her father would say proudly.

"_Who does he think he is, trying to take Maura away from you?" _Angela might ask.

"_Let's just forget the whole thing. Wanna catch a movie with me and Riley?" _Frankie would propose. Tommy would still just be jealous that Maura had gone for another Rizzoli.

Jane wanted more than just stolen moments.

They were beautiful and hard-earned and made her feel a wealth of wonderful things, but she already knew that in the long-run, they wouldn't be enough. She wanted to be able to show off their relationship, whatever it was. She didn't want to have to keep dodging the questions of interrogative relatives about her dating life. She didn't want Maura to get hives from having to lie about her feelings when people asked. She didn't want to have to stand by the wall and sulk or brood while every boy in their school flung himself at Maura.

Nobody took her seriously. Everything she did was funny or sad or so very, very wrong because she was supposed to be polite and soft-spoken and deferential and ladylike. Ladies didn't yell themselves hoarse, and they certainly didn't swear. Ladies watched the game, they weren't active participants. And most of all, ladies were the self-sacrificing types who aspired to nothing beyond marriage and motherhood—both very noble ideas, Jane agreed, but not for her. Not the only thing women should be permitted to strive for.

These were all thoughts she had had before, but everything just seemed to hit harder now, knowing that Maura wanted her as well but that that wouldn't be enough for the people around them. Families, friends, busybodies would dictate what was good and evil.

_Is it evil_? Jane worried. Her priest's booming voice resonated in her ears. He had never actually preached about homosexuals, but considering how passionate he seemed to get about much smaller infractions, Jane could only imagine the kinds of things he would say about it. How her father would nod in agreement and her mother would probably be moved to tears by the power of the priest's words.

_Why is it bad, Father? I don't understand. She makes me feel like I'm somebody. She loves me even when I screw up. She takes care of me when I'm down, and she makes me want to be a better person. Isn't that how you say God sees us? In that respect, then, why am I supposed to stop loving the most godlike person I know? _

_I confess something else, Father. I'm afraid. I'm so very, very afraid. I want everyone to know I love her. I'll do anything you say. I'll say my prayers. I won't sulk on my way to church. I'll never talk back to my mother again. I'll never cut school. I'll never be impatient with Tommy. I'll call my grandma every week. I'll be a saint. Just please, please, __please__ let me love her!_

She dropped Tommy off first, as the Rizzoli home was the first they passed on the way back from Concord. When she dropped off Sumner, she knew the proper thing to do would be to return promptly home, but she couldn't. Jane drove to the next corner and parked, waiting a short while to be sure Sumner would have gone into his own house by now. Then she got out and hurried back to the Isles' home, knowing she would be in deep trouble if anyone saw her creeping into the backyard of such a fancy place. But screw them.

Her heart was beating fast; she was scared of getting caught, but not enough to deter her from waiting for Maura. She didn't rightly know what she even wanted to say to her. She just had to see her.

It was just past eleven when she heard a car pull into the driveway of the house next door, and heard two sets of footsteps walk out. She could just barely hear Maura and Garrett's voices, and definitely couldn't make out what they were saying. Garrett laughed, and Jane tensed, waiting. An eternity seemed to pass before the voices finally stopped, and two front doors opened and closed independently of each other.

Of course they could get away with just going in the front door whenever they wanted. Jane was going to have to try and sneak in the back to her own house when she finally made it home, as she'd rather foolishly thought Maura would do. How could she get her attention now?

A minute later, a light turned on two stories above Jane's head and she realized it was Maura's bedroom. One feverish search later provided Jane with a handful of pebbles, and she chucked one up to the window.

That was all it took.

"Who's out there?" Maura called softly. "I've got a sword! It's for fencing, but—"

"Geez, Maura, it's me!"

"Jane?"

"No, Eleanor Roosevelt!"

"…at this hour?"

"_Maura!_"

"Hold on, hold on…" Jane shivered against the cold, waiting for Maura to come down. She soon appeared, wrapped in a very warm-looking robe over her clothes and a pair of matching slippers. As she was not wearing proper footwear, she declined to join Jane in the snow, and gestured for her to come up onto the porch. "Jane, you look like you're freezing!"

Teeth chattering, Jane nimbly jumped up next to Maura. "Warm me up?"

Maura pursed her lips, and as tempting an offer as it was, instead turned to sit on the porch swing. Slightly disappointed, Jane followed suit. "Are you all right?" Maura asked quietly.

"Gee, what would make you ask?" Jane chuckled.

"Well…this whole evening has sort of felt like a tilt-a-whirl," Maura explained, cocking her head. "We'd gone a while without seeing each other, then you showed up out of nowhere in the middle of my date tonight and initiated a make-out session in the tunnel of love. We talked about some things…" Her fingers found Jane's, both their hands bare, and she took it gently. "But rather than get more of it out in the open, we started kissing again." _Everything just slips away somehow, when I kiss you._

Jane laughed mirthlessly again. "Nice play-by-play."

"Why are you here?" Maura asked.

"I wanted to see you."

"And do what?"

Jane sighed shortly. "I dunno. I guess I was wanting to know how serious things are with you and Garrett. Or _do _I want to know?" When Maura didn't say anything right away, Jane pressed her, "Did he kiss you?"

"No," Maura breathed. "Not yet. I told him at the carnival that I didn't like the way he'd treated you. It wasn't a classy way to handle the situation, and I'd have rather gone home with you."

"You told him that?" Jane asked hopefully.

She shrugged, staring at her hands. "Well…not the part about wishing I'd gone home with you, though. But I made it clear that you were my friend and he wasn't to treat you that way, so disrespectfully."

"How's a creep like that get a girl like you?" Jane muttered.

Maura rested her hand on Jane's knee. "Two things, Jane: he generally isn't a creep to me. And he hasn't 'got' me."

"No?" Jane snorted, sounding bitter.

"No. You do." At that, Jane turned to look at her, appearing remorseful for the tone she'd been using. "You've got me, Jane, for as long as you'll have me."

At a loss for words, Jane leaned over for a short, chaste kiss. Maura was eager to return it, swooning over how soft and tender the gesture was. It made her feel more than wanted. It made her feel appreciated. Loved.

"Jane," she whispered, their foreheads resting together. "We're not alone."

"We are," Jane replied, just as quiet. "Maura, nobody can ever know. Nobody. And I hate that."

"Jane, someone already knows…"

She laughed weakly. "I mean besides us."

"My mother knows."

At this, Jane pulled back sharply and stared Maura down as if she were crazy. "Sh—_what? _She _knows_? What are you talking about? Did you _tell _her?"

"Well…sort of," Maura said uncomfortably, tucking some hair behind her ear. "She knew, Jane. She could tell. And so I told her. I… please don't make me feel badly for it, Jane. I needed someone to talk to, and she was there."

"What'd she say?" Jane asked, clearly nervous.

Maura tried to smile; it was hard in light of Jane's panic. "She consoled me. She sees nothing wrong with it. Jane, she just wants me to be happy."

"Right," Jane mumbled. "She thinks being some kinda social deviant is going to make you happy? Geez, did you tell her we kissed, too?" When Maura didn't say anything, Jane swore and stood up to leave.

"You stop right there!" Maura said, trying not to raise her voice too much. They were outside, after all, and the houses were built fairly close here. She'd at least gotten Jane's attention, as the girl stopped and turned around to face her. "Are you honestly upset with me for taking solace in my _mother's _arms? After we kissed and then you made me feel like I was some—some—some sort of _freak_ that you just wanted out of your house?! Of course I told my mother! You want to know what I did when the Maggiones took me home that night, Jane? I was bawling the second I got to my room! I made myself sick over you, trying to figure out what I'd done wrong to chase you away! You wanted to act like it didn't happen, so when my mother came in and wanted to talk, _of course _I talked! Don't you dare shame me for that!"

"Dammit, Maura!" Jane growled. At the pain so evident in Maura's face, Jane felt her own tears springing up, fueled also by guilt for having made Maura cry. "Couldn't you have at least talked to me about telling her before you said anything?!"

"_Any_thing?" Maura asked. "Jane, I wasn't about to just stroll up to you and tell you how I felt! I don't have any other friends I could've talked to about it! I'm sorry if your own mother wouldn't be as open to—"

"Don't bring up my mother!" Jane said harshly, waving her off. "See? Maura, this is why I can't do this—I can't!"

The thought of discussing her feelings for Maura with her own mother was impossible for Jane to even imagine. She literally could not envision a scenario where it might come up, where Angela would be happy to talk about it and be grateful to be there to wipe away Jane's tears. The idea of running into Constance, knowing what she knew, mortified Jane. How could she look that woman in the eye when she knew exactly what Jane was doing with her daughter?

"Jane, stop being so dramatic for a second and just listen."

"Screw you, I'm not dramatic," Jane huffed. "It's called being _practical_, Maura. And that's great for you if your hoity-toity family of world-travelers thinks it's swell to have a deviant in their house, but my folks would sooner try to electrocute it out of me if I so much as _hinted _that I've had my tongue in your mouth."

Maura hugged herself against the cold. "You think we're deviants?" she asked quietly.

The word choice wasn't ideal, Jane could admit, but she shrugged. "You tell me. What's the dictionary definition of a deviant, dictionary mouth?"

"A person or thing that deviates or departs markedly from an accepted norm," Maura said, and Jane held up her hands as if to say _well, there you go_. "But that doesn't have to mean it's a bad thing, Jane. By that definition, nuns and clergymen would also be considered deviants."

"_What?_"

"It's true! Celibacy, never getting married? That goes against our society's norm, doesn't it? But they tend to be very respected people."

"Look, I'm just…" Jane sighed heavily, trying to wrap her head around this. "Maura, this is a lot to deal with, and I don't have anyone to decompress with. I can't talk to my mom or any of my friends about it."

"You could talk to _my _mother, I'm sure," Maura offered.

"Ha, no thanks," Jane said. "I don't… yeah, no. Maura? I don't want you to be upset with me. But I keep screwing up. I'm gonna keep upsetting you, and I don't want to do that."

"I don't want you to, either," Maura said. "But I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Jane promised. "I just…" She sighed again. There was too much to say, and she had no idea how to go around saying any of it.

"Jane?" No response. "Please." _I'm falling. Catch me. I'm falling in love with you. Don't let me break. _

"You deserve the whole package," Jane finally said. "I want to try and be that for you, Maura. I just need a little time."

"How much time?"

"I don't know. I really don't. Please, just let me try?"

"Sure. If you'll just let me love you."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Any feedback sure is appreciated :)


	30. All Shook Up

**A/N**: So there's a Little Women quote thrown into this chapter...I believe it's not to be found in the book, only in the Winona Ryder adaptation, which is pretty good as far as movies go. Anyway...

* * *

The words seemed suspended between them for some time.

_Just let me love you_.

Maura had said "I love you" before, and Jane had returned it, back when they were still dancing around the idea of attraction. For Maura, it had been a way of testing the waters, trying to see how Jane might react to it. Jane had felt secure knowing it was a sentiment that could be used to express friendship. If she thought about it more deeply than that, she wasn't sure she could wrestle with the complexity of such a simple word.

"How?" she finally asked. Maura looked confused, and Jane stepped back up onto the porch. She tentatively reached out, putting her hand on Maura's cheek. It helped anchor her, somehow. It succored her. "_How _do you want to love me?"

Initially the amplification didn't help much, and Maura took a while to respond. The question could be interpreted a few ways. Was Jane asking if Maura wanted to make love to her? Of course the answer was yes, ultimately, but even with as far as they'd gone at this point, Maura was by no means prepared to go _that _far yet. Maybe Jane was simply seeking clarification that Maura was ready to love her as more than a best friend or a substitute sister. Maybe she wanted to know if Maura planned on committing to this for a long time, or if she'd rather do it quickly and be done with it. Jane had never struck her as so insecure before.

Eventually, Maura wrapped her arms around Jane's neck, shivering against the cold. "Jane? I've never felt this way before," she confessed quietly, seriously.

Jane's eyes closed. "I'm…me either."

_Maura, I can't say it yet. I love you. I'm so in love with you. I'm going to ruin it all, and it hasn't even really started yet. You're too perfect and I'm such a screw-up. Why can't I just say it, though? I've told you a dozen times how scared I am… that's not good enough._

With a shuddering sigh, Jane wrapped her arms around Maura for a long embrace. Her head rested on Maura's shoulder, and Maura started to rub her back consolingly. Depressing as the situation was, Maura couldn't help feeling strangely elated that for the first time in her life, she was being given the opportunity to comfort someone. It was an aspect of friendship she had never really thought much about, and here it was, suddenly presenting itself. She'd seen Jane squirm away from her own mother's embrace, seen her allow no more physical contact with her friends at school besides the occasional shoulder bump. Even if she was part of the source of Jane's pain tonight, Maura was the only one on the planet whose arms Jane would willingly use to seek solace. And in its own way, that meant the world to her.

"I'm here, Jane," she whispered. She kissed Jane's hair, and felt the girl shudder. "No matter what happens, I'll always be here. You believe that, don't you?"

"I do, Maura. I do." Jane inhaled deeply, staving off tears as she finally pulled back enough to look Maura in the eye. "Doesn't it terrify you?"

Maura shrugged uneasily. "A little."

"I can't think of any part of it that doesn't scare me," Jane admitted. "I mean… Roxie knew, Maura. She _knew_. Or knows, I guess I should say. What the heck's the matter with me if I can't even hide it from someone like that?"

"Jane, has anyone besides Roxie del Rossi ever called you on this?"

"Well no, but—"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Roxie."

"You'll 'take care' of her?" Jane chuckled. "Geez, Maura, you sound like a mob boss's daughter!"

Maura smiled at the touch of levity in their conversation. "I only meant I'll talk to her."

"And say what?"

"That she makes you uncomfortable."

"Geez, Maura, I can tell her that myself."

"I'll get it out faster. I won't be distracted by staring at her breasts."

Jane's jaw fell open. "Hey!"

"Jane, with all due respect, you can hardly control yourself when you're looking at mine, and Roxie's are even big—"

"_Geez_, Maura! I look you in the face, don't I?"

"Generally? Yes, you do. Don't worry, I only started thinking about it recently. At first maybe I thought I always had something on my blouse, and you were trying to be polite by not mentioning it and embarrassing me. And then I remembered you'd complimented me on my breasts before. Twice, in fact. And you've just confirmed to me now that you stared."

"I'm sorry," Jane mumbled, staring at the porch. "You're a lot more than all that, Maura. And I want—God, I want you so bad…ly. I just don't think I can give you what you want."

Maura cocked her head. "What do you think I want?"

The question caught Jane a little off guard. She'd thought the answer would be obvious, as she'd already decided she'd be unable to satisfy all of Maura's needs, but it was difficult to actually pinpoint it. She'd never gone into a relationship talking like this. Of course, it had never really seemed necessary, and now it definitely did. In a way, it made her feel a little more grown up, although that just made it all the more frightening in the end.

"I think you want me," Jane finally said, with no hint of embarrassment. "And you want me to give …anything between us a hundred percent. I feel _trapped_, Maura, and I've been trying to get out my whole life, and I don't know how." She shut her eyes and turned away, gripping the porch railing as tightly as she could. "I don't know how, not even for you. I know myself. I know what I can handle. I don't know if I can handle this the way you'd want me to."

"Jane, I'm flying blind, too. The important thing is that we're in this together."

"Your mom thinks it's swell, though," Jane said with an empty laugh. "That's one real big thing you've got on your side that I haven't, Maura. I haven't got it. And I can _guarantee _you that I never, ever will."

It was some time before Maura had gathered her thoughts well enough to properly reply. She didn't want to dismiss Jane's fears, because they were of course valid, but she also didn't want the bravest girl she knew to feel restrained by them—especially in this regard.

"Let me love you," Maura repeated, and Jane opened her eyes. "Just be sincere. Don't hide yourself away from me anymore. Keep this all a secret from your family and your friends for as long as you have to—forever, if you need to—just not me. Please. _Please _not from me, not anymore. We can be in this together. That's all I mean, Jane. That's all I want. Let me…" She leaned forward, giving Jane a quick, soft kiss before whispering, "_in._"

Jane returned this kiss, then whispered against Maura's lips, "How do we do this? How do we pull it off?"

"You're the expert at being a sneak, Jane. You tell me."

She had used a teasing tone of voice and meant it as an encouraging remark, but Jane pulled away with a scowl. "Maura, you're not hearing me. This? Us? It's not just that I can't envision telling my family or my friends without being scared they'll toss me into a psych ward! It's about _you_, and how I treat you! I told you that! I want you to be my girl and I want everyone to know it, because I'm proud as hell to know someone like you would even look _twice _at me! And instead I gotta come up with a way to make sure _nobody _I care about knows?"

"Jane."

"And it drives me nuts thinking of it all, Maura, and I don't know if I can do it."

Maura touched her arm and Jane pulled away, now crying in defeat; rather than let herself get shooed, Maura cupped Jane's face in her hands and stepped closer, and Jane allowed it. "Please, Jane, just tell me honestly. Do you rather nothing had happened between us? Do you rather wish you'd never known how much I want this with you?"

Jane was shivering, focused entirely on Maura, who used her thumb to brush away Jane's tears. "No, I don't wish that."

"I won't speak for you, but when I'm around you, some things just make more sense to me," Maura said. "And I think maybe sometimes, it's the world we're in that doesn't make any sense."

Gently taking hold of Maura's wrist, Jane turned her head and kissed Maura's palm. "You're nailing it shut, you know. My coffin."

Maura's hands fell and she frowned. "Well gosh, _that's _a nice thing to say."

"No, wait," Jane sighed. "I just… I'm trying to think where I'd be now if your family had never moved here. I'd probably still be with Joey. But I'd still stick out like a sore thumb. You say I make things make sense for you, well, you make me feel like I could… maybe belong someplace." _With you, in your arms, kissing you_. "I used to be really naïve and think maybe someday I'd just grow into the kind of girl everyone expected me to be, but I didn't want to, and I've been fighting it… or trying to, anyway. And you might be closing the lid on all those attempts, Maura, if I can go through with this."

Jane didn't want to lead what was considered a normal existence. She just wanted the respect and comfort that one would provide. Maura intuited this, and as Jane went to lean over the porch rail again, she put her hand comfortingly on Jane's back.

"Jane, you're one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met. How can you expect to lead an ordinary life?"

With that remark, Jane smiled, and her tears turned into happy ones. She took Maura's free hand and kissed it. "You're incredible." Maura returned the smile, and Jane could've sworn it had the power to defrost the entire city. "Nobody's ever used that word to describe me before," Jane continued. "Extraordinary, I mean. I think it's gonna take some getting used to."

"I know you don't like feeling pressured to live up to other people's ideas of what you are, or what you should be," Maura started, but Jane cut her off.

"No, no—Maura, this is the first time in my life I've really wanted to live up to someone's idea of me," she explained hurriedly. "I mean sure, I always kinda hope that my Pop is proud of me, and I guess Ma, too, but… I want to be everything that _you _want. I just need to figure out how to get to that point, and I can't get there overnight."

"I know," Maura said, with an amazing air of patience. "I can wait, Jane."

For some time after that, they stood silently arm-in-arm by the porch railing, enjoying the stars. Maura felt like she had handled this whole conversation fairly well, and Jane herself was marveling at the fact that Maura could approach this so maturely when she was only sixteen. She didn't take into consideration how hugely different Maura's upbringing had been from her own, and how much of an edge that gave her.

Maura had been raised by parents who hadn't had the faintest idea how to speak with a child. There had been no dumbing down, no baby talk, and no euphemistic phrases in their house. When the Isles hosted parties, Maura had preferred to join the adults in the living room rather than stay alone in her room. Thus, while much of what she initially heard went right over her head, Maura was exposed from a young age to brilliant debates between artists, philosophers, scientists, and lawyers. If she piped up with a question, someone would do his best to explain it to her until she understood. As such she felt much more comfortable navigating a world of adults than she did her own peers—Jane being a beautiful, wondrous exception.

By the time Jane went home that night (after a thorough goodbye that hadn't included much talking), she had already forgotten Maura's promise to speak with Roxie. At the time, she'd assumed Maura was joking anyway, but Maura thought she had gotten Jane's permission and was fiercely determined to lay down the law. The next day, when Jane spent hours finishing her final English composition before the holiday, Maura took advantage of her family's club membership and studied at Skylark. Every so often, she would get up and move to a different part of the property, hoping she might run into Roxie.

She'd been there no less than four hours when her efforts were paid off: there were Mr. and Mrs. del Rossi coming from one of the indoor tennis courts, and Roxie was headed for the ladies' changing room. Maura darted in after her, unnoticed, while Roxie started to change. There were two other women in the room who were taking their time chatting and washing up, but eventually left Maura and Roxie alone.

"Mrs. del Rossi?"

Roxie looked a little surprised to be addressed by this young stranger, but then she smiled with recognition. This was the kid she'd run into outside of the photography studio, the one hung up on Jane. "Hi, cutie! Is my memory faulty, or aren't you Jane Rizzoli's little friend?"

Maura squared her shoulders, somewhat put off by Roxie's condescending tone. "Actually, Jane's what I'd like to speak to you about—or, rather, I'd like to discuss your behavior towards her. I must ask that you please refrain from making any more inappropriate remarks …or advancements."

Roxie couldn't have looked less fazed as she stretched, then took her time unrolling her long socks. "How old are you, kid?"

"Sixteen. What about you?"

"Twenty on my last birthday, two months ago. Listen, Jane ask you to be her ambassador?" She smirked. "She's not _afraid _of little old me, is she?"

Balking at the very idea, Maura said, "Jane doesn't know that I'm here. I just want you to stop your flirting, that's all."

Intrigued by the sternness in Maura's tone, Roxie straightened up. This was definitely not a case of "you're both female and it's inappropriate;" it was Maura trying to stake a claim. That tone made her incredibly obvious. She looked adorably determined, and Roxie couldn't help giggling a bit. "Tell me, honey, tell me. Did Jane finally make a move on you? Or are you just being, uh, preemptively possessive?"

Maura's fists clenched. "Jane is seeing someone. Please don't flirt with her anymore."

"Oh, you sweet kid," Roxie chuckled. "It was all innocent, I promise. I mean if anything, you really should be thanking me."

"_Thanking _you?"

"Sure," Roxie said, shrugging. "Jane's a classic case, kid. Trust me, all I did was open her eyes to herself a little bit. I try to facilitate that kind of thing where I can. Of course," she laughed, putting on a bright red shade of lipstick, "I do admit Jane's sort of my type. You know," she added, now doing the top lip. "Brooding, serious, sporty. I like my girls a little rough around the edges." She laughed lightly, capping the lipstick and turning to look at Maura. "The kind who looks more at home in a pair of jeans than a dress. Of course I haven't actually had the chance to see Jane in jeans, but I imagine she's pretty sexy, huh?"

Fidgeting, Maura sighed, "Are you going to stop, or not?"

"Stop what?" Roxie asked innocently.

Maura folded her arms, looking severely peeved. "Stop talking about Jane that way."

"Fierce little femme!" Roxie laughed. "Refreshing, honey."

"Are you a femme?"

"Do I look like a butch to you?"

Butch and femme were not terms Maura had encountered before, but the latter was easy to figure out. Logically it would seem that they were opposites. If 'femme' described her, then it most certainly fit Roxie—even more so. A butch was tough, like Jane.

"Tell me, babe," Roxie said, misreading the faraway look in Maura's eyes. For her part, Roxie looked excited. "She treat you rough?"

That jarred Maura right out of her reverie, and she looked at Roxie as if the woman had just slapped her. "No! No, goodness, no! I—I mean she's not always… particularly… _delicate_, but she has never hurt me. She's sweet to me."

"As she should be! Good on her. Good. You want my advice, kid?"

As Maura was hungry for first-person perspective, the impulsive response would be affirmative, but she didn't want to come off as desperate. "Why should I?"

With an almost pitying look, Roxie said, "I've got experience. Those are the only qualifications I need. Doesn't matter how we got to this place, Maura, it only matters that we're here. Maybe you're like me. Maybe you were eleven years old and found your daddy's collection of pin-ups. And looking at those pictures made you feel kinda funny, but you liked it. And you kept sneaking looks for months, for years. You got a little older and your pals start talking nonstop about the boys, and you couldn't care less. Boys are all right for kicks, but you just flip your _lid _over girls. You found that kindred spirit, you flirted with her, and she went for it in the locker room and your life hasn't been the same since.

"Or maybe you're a little more like Jane, and this revelation is only very, very recent. Maybe you couldn't quite figure out why the boys didn't get you excited. But then comes along this loud, brash, sexy and wild _female _thing, and it all fell into place. That the way it happened, sweetheart?"

It was a straightforward question, and Maura couldn't lie, so she bit her lip and nodded. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen for Jane, but it had definitely come on her slowly. Roxie sighed softly, putting her hand on Maura's shoulder. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle and sincere.

"Some advice, one femme to another? You gotta let Jane feel like a _man_, honey."

Maura looked confused. "But she's _not _a man." _Isn't that the point…?_

"Didn't say she was. But for argument's sake, in terms of a relationship, you are the little woman. Don't push her too hard, it's not your place. She'll come to you when she's good and ready, and on her own terms. I don't know Jane excessively well, but I can tell you this much: she's the type of girl who likes to be in control of a situation."

"You seem to like control yourself," Maura observed, as Roxie put in her earrings.

There was that laugh again, the one where Maura wasn't sure of the intent behind it. "When I'm with a lady, it's like this: she's the head, but a femme who knows her stuff is the neck—she turns that head and directs it anywhere she wants. Capice? But you need a little practice before you can reach that stage, honey. During this phase, you let Jane be her own boss, all right? Unless you want her to bolt, you let her go at her own speed."

Maura wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. She sat herself slowly down in the plush chair by the mirror as Roxie finished collecting her things. After offering one more supportive smile, Roxie turned on her high heel and exited the changing room, leaving Maura entirely alone. Anyone who came in might have thought they were seeing a girl possessed, so faraway were Maura's eyes. This conversation hadn't gone exactly the way she'd thought it might. Yes she had imagined Roxie would tease her a little, but she hadn't expected a lecture on the navigation of this new relationship.

She didn't particularly like the concept of treating Jane like "the man." Honestly, part of what had appealed to her about this notion of being with Jane (when so much of it made her nervous) was that lack of a culturally-ingrained masculine attitude. Her father's treatment of her mother was an exception; she had realized from a young age that most men didn't see their wives as their equals, and Maura had seen many relationships among her classmates take a familiar turn. Her independent streak was intimidating to many boys, she knew.

But like Jane, she seemed to have found a couple who were intrigued by that same quality. At least, intrigued to try being the one who broke that spirit. Garrett seemed fairly nice, at least to Maura, but she couldn't help privately wondering when that would change. It always did. Her quirkiness ceased to be amusing, and her desire for her aspirations to be taken seriously stopped being cute. Her goals became less important in light of how she might help him accomplish his.

That's how it went.

Jane had been the opposite.

Initially Jane hadn't been particularly sweet. After a point, Maura stopped tolerating the rude behavior, and Jane started to change. The eye rolls were affectionate, not condescending. The laughter was unquestionably done _with _Maura, not aimed _at _her. There was an eagerness to teach, to learn, to share life experiences. The level of their friendship got higher every day, and Jane was decreasingly selfish. Her attentiveness to Maura's wants and needs had reached a point where she could often anticipate them, and was eager to meet them. Maura never felt like she was being merely placated or tolerated in exchange for something else.

Why try and make Jane "the man" in their relationship when all Maura simply wanted was a Jane?

Eventually she went home, though she was still feeling a bit turned around. At dinner she barely engaged with her parents' discussion, trying to mull over whether she should tell Jane about her conversation with Roxie. Probably. Otherwise, there was a good chance Roxie might tell Jane about it herself. She just didn't have to include all the details, necessarily.

A little after 8:30, the phone rang, and Constance answered. "Hello?"

"He-…Yvette?"

"Yvette is ill and not working today. This is Mrs. Isles. Is this Jane?"

"Um—how'd you know?"

"You have a very distinctive voice."

Jane immediately wanted to hang up, remembering that Maura had said her mother knew that they had kissed. Suddenly she felt hot under the collar, as if this meant Constance could also see into each of Jane's closely guarded fantasies, ones she hadn't even shared with Maura yet. If ever a person was capable of telepathy, it was probably Constance Isles.

"I—um, I was… uh… I was wondering if Maura was there?"

"Yes, she's home," Constance said, waving to get her husband's attention. She mouthed "get Maura" to him, and he dutifully went off to find her. "She'll pick up in just a moment. How have you been, Jane?"

"Good! Fine! Great! Really good, thanks, Mrs. Isles. Christmas is almost here, so… that's… fun."

"I imagine it must be."

There was a short silence on the line as Jane burned with embarrassment and Constance tried not to laugh. Jane's fervent prayer for the awkwardness to end was finally granted when Maura picked up the extension in her room, and Constance hung up.

"Jane?"

"Hey! Boy, is it sure a relief to get _you _on the line. Think your parents would let you come out for a little bit?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Out. With you. It's been a real long day, and I need to relax."

"I was under the impression that you don't feel very relaxed around me anymore," Maura said without an ounce of impetuousness. She knew their relationship was stressing Jane out.

"I want to see you, baby, please?" (Jane obviously couldn't see it, but Maura shivered a bit with pleasure at the sound of the pet name.) "I've got some place I wanna take you."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise. Come with me?"

Maura sighed happily, figuring that resistance would ultimately prove to be futile. "Will you pick me up?"

"I'm already out the door."

* * *

**A/N**: So at this point, I sort of imagine that the next chapter will mark the real turning point for this story. The girls will be in separate continents for the holidays, and when they return, will start their journey into 1950s America lesbian subculture. I have to say, I found reading up on that history really fascinating, particularly the strong categorization of butch vs. femme. Hope y'all enjoy what follows!


	31. Bye Bye Love

**A/N**: Sorry if this has felt repetitive lately! Things are definitely going to get shaken up after this chapter. Here, my goal was sort of to explore Jane a bit more. It went on a little longer than I'd intended, but ultimately I decided it made more sense for the ending of it to be put here rather than the beginning of the next chapter. Thanks for your continued support of this story, and happy reading! :)

* * *

"Ma? Please. I don't want anything."

"Jane!"

"What?! Ma, you gotta be the only mother in the entire world who gets mad at her daughter for _trying _to be frugal!"

"Is that what this is about?! Janie, it's _Christmas! _It's about love and family and celebrating our merciful Lord and Savior by exchanging gifts with our loved ones! Now tell me something you want, darn it!"

This was an argument they'd been having for a few weeks now, and it wasn't the first year it'd come up. Tommy wanted a sled and a new football this Christmas; Frankie had asked if he could have a new sheath for his knife and a nice watch, if it was affordable. At this age, with Angela so unwilling to indulge in Jane's distaste for femininity, Jane could not think of a single thing to ask for. As Christmas got nearer, Angela took to springing the question on Jane at unexpected moments, as if hoping to surprise the answer out of her.

"A batch of snickerdoodles, Ma. That would be a great present, really."

"What? No, Janie, let us buy something for you! Can I surprise you, at least?"

"Oh geez, 'cause that's worked so well in the past?" Jane said with a scowl. "If you really wanna surprise me, at least let Pop do it, okay? He knows what I like."

Angela's voice was grating. "But Jane, let me do something for my girl!"

"_Fine! You wanna get me something I want, Ma? Let me get a motorcycle! Get me a biker jacket! Let me get a pistol, or a rifle, and pick up skeet shooting again! Tell me you'll never make me wear another damn dress—give me and Maura your blessing! Let me bring Maura over after a date and give her a quick kiss in front of you, Ma! Because I am __crazy__ about her and I can't tell a single soul! Give me that peace! Ma, that's all I want, it's all I'll __ever__ want from you—just let me be! Let me be!"_

The tirade tore through Jane's mind with such intensity that it actually overwhelmed her, and she fell back into one of the sitting room chairs with her hands in her hair and tears forming in her eyes. Alarmed by this sudden onset, Angela sat next to Jane and tentatively put a hand on her back, promptly causing Jane to sob. But when Angela tried to hug her, Jane—as she was wont to do—shrank away.

"_Jane_," Angela whispered. "What's the matter?"

"N-nothing, Ma, nothing." Jane tried to take a deep breath, pressing her hands to her eyes in hopes of making the tears stop flowing.

"My thick-skinned Calamity Jane starts crying and there's nothing the matter?" Angela balked.

Jane shifted away and sounded uncharacteristically weak when she said, "You wouldn't understand."

"Jane, honey, I know you think I'm an old fogey who doesn't know a thing about modern living, but I've been there! Being older than you means that _I've been where you are! _I know how it feels to be seventeen and afraid that—"

"NO!" Jane yelled. She jumped to her feet, knocking Angela's arm off her back, shaking with sudden rage. "You won't understand! I know you, and you've _never _been where I am, and you never will be! _Ever!_ So just stop trying to mother me and leave me alone!"

With a final sob, Jane hurried from the room. Angela stared after her, mouth open in shock, though a small part of her figured she ought to have expected an outburst like this for some time. Jane seemed constantly on edge, and though they'd had many an epic argument, she had never looked _so _angry or yelled quite like that. Jane must have had the keys to the family car in her pocket, because the roar of the engine sounded outside followed quickly by the sound of a quick getaway. All Angela felt she could do was throw her hands up in defeat, envying other women yet again for their sweet, obedient daughters.

Jane made a quick trip to Murray's soda shop, though she spent a good while trying to erase evidence of her crying before she ran inside to use the phone. Earlier she had wondered if maybe keeping her distance from Maura for a little while might be a good idea—test her restraint, maybe ease up—but it felt too good to know that Maura would always be there for her and ready to see her. Jane was profoundly grateful that Maura had time for her tonight, and she drove to the Isles' as fast as she dared on the winter roads.

Once there, she spent a good five minutes checking her face and hair in the rear view mirror. She wished she was wearing something a little nicer, but she hadn't had time to run to her room to change out of her sweater and jeans before she left. She flicked absently at a pimple on her chin and swore when it popped and bled instead of scraping off. The handkerchief which was usually in the glove box of the car was gone for some reason, and with nothing else suitable on hand, Jane yanked off one of her gloves and held it to the small, bleeding mark on her face. Impatient to get going, she kept pulling the glove away but the scab kept bleeding. It was over a minute before it stopped, and she cursed herself for the pink mark that was so obvious.

There was nothing she could do about it now, though, and time she spent stressing over her appearance was time she could be spending with Maura. So with a final huff of annoyance, she thrust herself from the car and hurried to the Isles' front door.

Maura opened it only a few seconds after Jane knocked. Jane's cheeks were flushed from the cold, which Maura thought gave her a very fresh, healthy look (while Jane had worried it was an unflattering look).

"Gee whiz, Maura," Jane said, rubbing the back of her neck. "You look prettier every time I see you."

"Thanks!" Maura said brightly. "You already know I always think you look incredible." An honest, bashful grin unfolded on Jane's face.

At the same time that Maura invited her in, Jane asked if she wanted to get going. A moment was filled with awkward laughter, followed by a silence that indicated they actually weren't sure how to proceed here. Anxious to give their relationship a label, Maura felt like she was getting picked up for a date. A boy would be expected to come in and at least say hello to her parents. It just seemed to be the proper thing to do.

But Roxie had said to let Jane take the lead.

Maura called over her shoulder to her parents: "Jane's here! I'll be back soon!"

Jane grinningly reached for Maura's hand, but Mr. Isles' voice rang out: "Hey there, kids—hang on!"

Maura frowned as she saw the color drain out of Jane's face, and quickly pulled her into the house by the elbow. She shut the door as her father walked into view, knowing how much he detested letting cold air into the house. To Jane's panic, Constance was right behind him. She was still intensely uncomfortable knowing what Maura had confided to her mother. She'd gotten the impression that the two of them weren't that close—how did they know Constance was really an ally? Mightn't she rat them out at any moment, or otherwise turn on them?

"Jane, it's dreadfully cold outside," Constance said. "Haven't you got a jacket?"

"Um—in the car," Jane lied. She hadn't thought to grab one before running out. "I was a little warm, actually."

"Must be that Italian blood, eh?" Desmond laughed, and Jane barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Incidentally, Jane, you ever make it over to the homeland?"

"Italy? No, sir. My parents were both born here…and nobody's ever gone back."

"Beautiful country, to be sure. Of course _I _saw it while it was ravaged by war, and haven't been back since, but …it was a grand place, surely worth helping to fight for. Anyhow—"

"Anyhow," Constance cut in, not wanting to delay the girls any longer. "Try to be back sooner rather than later, hm? I don't know about you, Jane, but Maura's got an exam in the morning, and she needs to be well-rested."

"Yes ma'am, don't worry," Jane said. And without any further ado, she led the way back outside, and the door shut behind them abruptly.

Constance turned quickly and went back to the library, torn between feeling happy that Maura had found someone to be so close to, and terribly sad by the limitations that came with it. She remembered the first time a boy had come to pick up Maura for a date, back in Paris. He'd been just as nervous as Jane had appeared to be, and after they left, Desmond and Constance had shared a good-natured laugh about it. They'd reminisced about their own first date, and postulated about how close to the curfew the kids would cut it. A similar conversation would inevitably occur every subsequent time Maura got taken on a date—it wasn't a particularly frequent event, but enough so that Desmond and Constance had their own sort-of tradition every time it did happen.

So it made her feel profoundly sad that when Desmond joined her in the library, they resumed their discussion of holiday travel plans rather than engage in a dialogue about how smitten Maura was and whether she was finally so far gone that she might actually forget her curfew.

"Does your dad know, too?" Jane asked, once they'd gotten in the car and started driving. She didn't sound angry or defensive, just worried.

"No."

"Your mom hasn't told him?"

"She told me she wouldn't, and I have no reason to believe I can't trust her on this front. Besides …I would know if he was aware. He'd tell me. I know you think I've got an edge because of my mother, but I've heard my father say some fairly horrible things about… about people like us, Jane."

"People like us," Jane snorted.

"You know," Maura said slowly. There was a long silence as Jane turned the corner and headed in a direction that seemed only a little familiar to Maura. "Lesbians."

Jane tensed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening, but she chose not to reply. She didn't feel comfortable with that word, even if she knew how aptly it described her. Actually, she'd never even heard it before Roxie gave her that pulp novel (which she had since devoured in its entirety). To her it felt like a scandalous, sensationalizing term, words she usually tried to avoid. It didn't matter that she'd been hungering for a book like _Odd Girl Out_ for so long, and it didn't matter that Maura chose to identify herself with that word. It still made Jane feel a little ill at ease. Between the bouts of pleasure that came when she made out with Maura, she was attacked by an anxiety she had never fully known before.

Now that she had acknowledged this aspect of herself, she knew she couldn't go back to pretending like it didn't exist.

They kept driving in silence as Jane contemplated that simple word: _lesbians. _For her, it was inextricably associated with the salacious aspects of _Odd Girl Out_, and she was reminded with a degree of shame how intensely she'd lusted after Maura, and how that had manifested itself in the time they'd spent together lately. Not necessarily shame for doing it at all (although the guilt was there), but shame for pursuing that level of activity over something slower, sweeter, and gentler. Something more romantic, less animalistic.

Her father and his pals had slandered men like del Rossi for their fixation on sex. A queer thought romance was a waste of time. All he could think about was sex, and it was all he wanted. Now sure it was natural for a man to have a healthy appetite for stuff like that—given he settled down with a woman eventually, and stayed faithful to her. But to go after that and only that, with a man to boot, was twisted and immoral and wrong.

Yes, Jane felt a heavy sexual attraction to Maura, but it was _so _much more than that. She worried she hadn't conveyed that properly to her yet, even while still worrying that she could never commit to an actual relationship with Maura. Jane wanted her to know.

Maura interrupted her thoughts by saying, "I gather you don't like that word. Well, all right. What would you prefer?"

"Hm?"

"What should you like?"

"I like you," Jane replied.

"I mean what would you like to be called?"

"Just Jane."

Settling back in her seat with a sigh, Maura said, "All right, just Jane. Where are you taking me?"

"Well, I thought at first I'd like to take you to Make-Out Point, but then I decided against it. The place we're going isn't anything special, really."

"Is it a place you like?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then it's something special."

That finally got Jane to smile, and she stole a glance at Maura, who grinned back at her. Things felt very tentative between them still, and Maura hoped they were on the road to Jane being more settled. She had to admit she was a little disappointed that Jane had yet to say "I love you" in an assuredly romantic way, but Maura intuited that she shouldn't push it. She was desperate to hear it but wanted it to come from Jane sincerely in her own time, in her own way. Fortunately for them both, patience had always been one of Maura's virtues.

Maura peered over her shoulder, looking for the jacket Jane had allegedly left in the car. "That sweater's all you've got, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Why didn't you say so? You could've borrowed something from me or my mother!"

"And risk getting slush on something that'd cost eight hundred dollars to dry clean? Not on your life!" Jane laughed. "Besides, like your father said. I'm a hot-blooded Italian, I don't need a jacket to stay warm in the winter."

As Jane wasn't shivering or giving off a cold appearance in any other way, Maura had to assume she was being truthful. While it was certainly chilly tonight, it wasn't arctic weather, and she could believe that Jane was warm enough.

Soon they reached their destination, and Jane stopped the car at the foot of a tall hill. A small, stone pathway led upwards, but it looked very haphazardly put together, as if it had been done by bored children and not professionals. Promising not to let Maura fall, Jane reached for her hand and led her up slowly. By grabbing hold of large, nearby rocks in place of a rail, Jane was able to get them safely up to the top. They were surrounded by a thick grouping of tall trees and what might have been a very nice surrounding hedge in the springtime. In winter it didn't provide quite as much coverage, but Jane led Maura deeper into the dark.

"Jane…" she said, sounding nervous.

"Sh." Jane came to a stop and turned around, putting her hands on Maura's waist. "Look up."

Maura did, and gasped softly at the sight above her. Through the bare branches of all the trees, the stars were glowing brighter than ever away from the lights of the city. Standing there in Jane's arms, she didn't feel so cold anymore, and the dark didn't seem nearly as frightening. It felt like something out of a movie. She didn't realize her mouth had fallen open slightly until Jane whispered her name and Maura brought her gaze back down to her.

Jane shifted her hands up to gently frame Maura's face, and leaned in for a kiss. It was surprisingly soft and delicate, and when Maura tried to initiate tongue, Jane quietly broke it off. She slid one hand down to the small of Maura's back and went in for another kiss, pulling their bodies together and sucking Maura's top lip between her own. Maura whimpered a little and felt her legs getting weak.

One hand still caressing Maura's face, Jane ended the kiss. "There," she whispered. "That's what I wish our first one had been like." She didn't need to elaborate: spur-of-the-moment. Quiet. Sweet. Sincere. "I'm sorry," she went on in the same quiet voice. "Maura, I'm sorry about how… _artificial _our first kiss was."

"Jane, it's all right…"

Her words were lost under Jane's stammered, anxious explanation: "I thought about kissing you _so _many times, Maura. I wanted it to be this spontaneous, romantic thing. That first time I took you to Murray's, and we shared a soda …sometimes when we were in the back of Sluckey's classroom, and you were rambling all these biological facts and figures and you were so cute. When we were on that ferris wheel together, and when I fell asleep on your bed that one time… God." She shook her head, laughing feebly. "I got so hung up on it, on you. All I wanted was for it to be okay."

It was Maura's turn to cradle Jane's face, and she spoke with a comforting lilt to her voice. Their foreheads touched. "Jane? It's okay."

Jane chuckled again, and there was a rueful sound to it. She brushed her lips against the top of Maura's cheek, then one of her dimples. "I'm just sorry for how it happened, and how scared I was. I wish I hadn't had to give myself that security blanket like that."

If Maura was honest with herself, she was also sorry she'd allowed it to happen that way. A true first kiss was something that could never be gotten back, although Jane's effort tonight was heart-meltingly sweet. "Jane, it's done. The point is that we're here now."

"I still don't know where 'here' is, though," Jane said.

"For the sake of argument, let's say that 'here' is a state of being where we are both attracted to each other, and are also aware of each other's attraction." With her vision finally accustomed to the dark, Maura could just make out Jane's smile. "Just out of curiosity, I was wondering where we are, physically."

"Physically? Um…well, I really enjoy kissing you, if you couldn't tell."

Maura blushed. "Oh, that's not what I meant! I was just wondering where actually, physically, are right now."

"Oh! Right, um, this is just my little hideaway, I guess," Jane said. Taking Maura's hand, she took a few paces and sat on one of the only rocks that wasn't covered in snow. "My house is only about half a mile from here. I used to come here to be alone when I was upset, even as a little kid. And well, for a while, it was mine and Emily's special, secret place."

Maura couldn't help feeling a small twinge of jealousy, even if it was just at the notion that Jane had had a best friend as a kid. For her part, Maura would have loved having someone to sneak around with, someone to have a special hideaway with. But also… "Jane? Did you ever feel towards Emily the way you feel towards me?"

Jane sighed loudly and shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I did, in a way. I just never would've thought about it that way, the way I knew I felt about you from the first time I saw you. With Emily, I just wanted to be around her all the time and I got jealous when she was with other people. And I'm sure somewhere deep in there, I was thinking more than 'gee, she's pretty.' I just didn't understand it. She doesn't hold a candle to you though, in any way."

Maura hadn't felt too concerned, but nonetheless, it was still reassuring to hear. "Am I being initiated here, then?"

"Sure," Jane laughed.

"Did you want to come here because you're upset?"

"Mm…yeah, I guess. I had kind of a bad fight with Ma."

"What about?"

"Aw gee, it was just a dumb fight about Christmas. I guess it's never been anything your family had to stress over, but Ma's been pestering me about what I want. And I don't want anything she'd be willing to give me, so why bother asking, right? So inevitably she'll wind up trying to surprise me with something, which is a terrible idea because right out the gate, I've hated everything she ever tried to 'surprise' me with."

With a sympathetic smile, Maura asked, "Dare I ask for an example?"

"I was five and I wanted some kid boxing gloves I'd seen for Christmas. Apparently Pop was all for it, but Ma put her foot down." She shook her head. "This is mostly stuff I heard later, but I guess Ma blew a lot of savings buying me this really nice, real expensive doll. It had little gold curls, and bright blue eyes, and I think she had three different outfits with accessories you could switch out. I remember a little red purse she had. Anyhow, I guess Pop told her it wasn't gonna work, but Ma didn't have nice things a kid. She'll sit you down and tell you about it any time you ask, Maura—her family was poorer than dirt. So I guess from her point of view, she thought how thrilled she'd be if she'd gotten such a nice doll for Christmas as a kid."

The amusement had long left Maura's face, as she could tell from Jane's tone where this story was going. "Did you hate it?"

"This much I do actually remember. I think it's probably the earliest memory I've got," Jane said. "Maybe just 'cause of the pictures we have from that morning, I dunno. Anyhow Christmas came, and my Ma's parents were there and her brother, too, and out of all the presents, she brought the doll out to be opened last. It was this big box and I tore into it, hoping against hope it would be those boxing gloves, and it was a stupid doll. And you know kids, Maura, they can't hide a thing they're feeling."

Maura could all too easily imagine the disappointment on five-year-old Jane's face, and how crushed Angela must have felt to see it. What nobody knew was that after seeing Jane ignore this special gift to play with Frankie's baseball instead, Angela had gone into her room and wept.

"Pop was cleaning up all the wrapping paper, and grandma started making dinner, and Ma came out of her bedroom and saw me…" Jane's voice halted as she remembered, feeling sad and guilty and wounded all at once. "Frankie had this other gift, a toy pistol, and I was pretending to shoot the doll with it. It's still my Pop's favorite family story to tell," she said, as Maura was unsure whether she ought to have laughed or not. "He thinks it's a real riot."

"I'm sure your mother didn't see it that way."

"Sure didn't. Right there in the living room, in front of everybody, she took me over her knee and spanked me something awful." Jane flattened her hand and slapped it hard against her knee for emphasis, and Maura jumped slightly. Having never been disciplined in her life, she couldn't imagine a parent taking what seemed to be such extreme measures. To the adults at that Christmas, though, it had seemed a fitting punishment for such an aggressive form of ingratitude. "It hurt like hell," Jane muttered. "And I was crying, y'know, 'cause I was embarrassed and hurt and I didn't get why I deserved to be punished like that. Ma wouldn't let me go 'hide' in my room because our party guests were gonna be arriving soon, so I just …I mean I guess Pop felt pretty bad, and he let me sit on his lap, and I was just wailing into his shoulder. My grandpa turned up the volume on the radio to drown it out."

Once sure it seemed that Jane was done, Maura whimpered "Oh!" and flung her arms around Jane's shoulder. She kissed her cheek and held her painfully tight, which got Jane to laugh a bit.

"Maura, it's okay. I got over it."

"It's not fair, though," Maura sniffed. "She oughtn't have done that to you!"

"Yeah, well, I shouldn't have been such a brat about the toy. But what can I say, guess I've always been bad."

Her attempt to bring humor back into the conversation was ignored by Maura, who kissed the corner of her mouth and then her lips. "I'm still sorry, Jane. That just makes me so sad."

And yet, Jane was smiling. "Gee, Maura. If this is what you're gonna do every time I tell you some sad story from my childhood, I got a bunch up my sleeves for ya!"

"Jane, don't tease me like that. Tell me something happy."

"Happy? Okay, let's see. Well, turns out my Pop was tons better at surprise gifts than Ma was. When I was uh, I think I was nine or ten, he bought me a collection that had the first ten Nancy Drew books. Ever read those?"

"My aunt gave me one when I was younger, I think. She was the girl detective?"

"Yup, that was her. I was kinda skeptical at first 'cause I didn't like to read at that age, but I fell in love."

"With the series?"

"Yeah, and with Nancy, I think," Jane scoffed. "Gosh, it's kinda funny now, looking back." How could she not have known then what kind of girl she was?

"_Merry Christmas, Jane! What'd you get?"_

"_Merry Christmas, Emily, look—more Nancy Drew!" Huddled together in their secret forested hideaway, the two best friends gleefully looked at the cover. "Isn't she lovely?" Jane asked reverently._

"_Sure!" Emily giggled. "I'd love to look like her when I'm in high school!"_

"_Uh—yeah, me too," Jane said. Of course that's all she'd meant. "Boy, and she's brilliant, isn't she? Finds a way out of every scrape!"_

"_Oh, I think it's a lot of luck," Emily said._

_Jane gaped at her. "What! How could you say that about the world's greatest detective?!"_

"_Well gee, I mean she's smart, but I bet you could do just as good, Jane!"_

"_Really?"_

"_Sure!"_

And so began Jane's recurring fantasy: a sharp blonde finally got trapped in a case she couldn't escape, and Jane would use her own detective savvy to come to the rescue. It wasn't uncommon for Angela or one of the boys to come across young Jane, dreamily staring at the cover of a Nancy Drew book. They always assumed she was just happily thinking about the fun mystery she'd finished reading. In actuality, Jane's daydreams never strayed into real romance; after all, she was still at an age where the mere word made her recoil in disgust. But it excited her to think how grateful Nancy would be when Jane Rizzoli swept in to save her. How thrilled, how grateful she'd be! "My hero!" she'd say, and she'd throw her arms around Jane to thank her.

"You had a crush on her, didn't you?" Maura asked, nudging Jane's shoulder. "On Nancy Drew."

Jane laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, maybe. What about you, Maura? Ever, uh… d'you think you might ever have felt this way about another girl before?"

"I suppose I never thought about it," Maura said. "I genuinely _liked _the boys I dated, but I only ever kissed two of them, and—"

"Wait! You told me you'd never been kissed!"

_Whoops_. "W-well… technically, that wasn't a lie."

"How can that be if you've kissed two guys?!"

"It's the way you worded it, Jane! You said you bet I'd never kissed a boy. Technically speaking, I never had been the one to take initiative. I'd _been _kissed, but I had never been the kisser. Does that make sense?"

"Geez, I guess. Why'd you…oh." Jane relaxed and laughed a little, easing Maura's nerves as well. "Were you hoping I'd volunteer to teach you a thing or two?"

"Yes, and it obviously worked."

"Obviously."

They got going a few minutes later, once again putting off true conversation about where their relationship was headed. When Jane pulled up to the Isles' house, Maura asked whether Jane thought her mother would be angry at her for just taking off. Jane nodded, and Maura gave her what amounted to a rather heated kiss for good luck. The sensation of that kiss was the only thing that got Jane through the lecture she received the minute she got home. Angela was laying into her about disrespect and running off without leaving word, and was so into it that she didn't notice the serene smile Jane was trying and failing to smother.

It did leave somewhat naturally when the word "grounded" reached Jane's ears. For the next week, she would only be permitted to leave the house for school and work, where Angela would pick her up and drop her off at both places.

This led to an insufferably long, friendless day of exams that ended with a rather unfortunate phone call. As part of her grounding, Jane had also been forbidden from watching television, listening to the radio, and using the telephone. When it rang late the next night, Angela picked it up.

"Hello, Mrs. Rizzoli, this is Maura."

"Hi, darling. Would you like to speak with Jane?"

"Yes, please, I—"

"Well I'm sorry, dear, but she's grounded and I'm afraid that means she can't use the telephone."

"Oh please, Mrs. Rizzoli, please let me talk to her!"

Maura sounded uncharacteristically frazzled, and Angela glanced over at Jane, who was engrossed in an anthology of poems her English teacher had leant her. "Are you all right?"

"I will be, please, and I promise I'll be brief—I really just need to talk to Jane!"

Noting the distress in Maura's tone, Angela said, "No longer than five minutes, all right? Jane!" she called over sharply. "Maura's on the phone, get over here."

The book nearly flew out of her hands as Jane raced to get to the phone before Angela changed her mind. "Maura? Hi! Look, I kinda can't do anything this weekend on account of—"

Maura spoke with the speed and urgency of one who might've had a gun at her back: "Jane, my parents want to go to Paris for the holiday, and we're leaving tomorrow morning!"

Jane's stomach flipped, and she slumped into the chair by the phone. "Whoa, what? Just like that?"

"One of my father's friends already chartered his plane to go there, and my aunt invited us to Paris for Christmas, but I didn't think we were leaving so soon—neither did my mother when she told me, but our family friend is leaving tomorrow and my father waited to tell us as sort of a surprise."

She didn't have time to get into the fact that this was not uncommon for her father. In the past, it had always been easy to delight Maura by telling her to pack her bags, because they were off to Sicily or Vichy or Vienna the next day. Surprise travel plans were typically her favorite kind, which was why Desmond couldn't understand why she'd looked so panicked when he mentioned this idea to her.

"How long would you be gone?"

"Three and a half weeks, Jane!"

"Well…" Jane looked around the room, where Angela was keeping an eye on her and the clock, Frank was reading the paper, and Frankie was fixing his radio. She figured Maura was on the extension in her room, granting her privacy that Jane would never get in this house. "What about exams? How can you just leave school?"

"Jane, please don't hold this against me, but my father is good friends with the administrator, and he's arranged for me to do any necessary work over the duration of our trip."

"Then I guess there's no reason you should stay here," Jane said, meaning there was no technical reason.

Maura sounded almost hysterical. "How can you say that?! Jane, I wanted to spend this time off with _you_, and I mean we still haven't even—we still have so much to figure out. I'm afraid that if I leave now…"

It was hard for her to articulate a particular fear, but it wasn't too difficult for Jane to guess. Maura was worried Jane would just crawl further and further into herself, and after the separation, might give her the cold shoulder. Or, out of sight, out of mind. They had only too recently started to explore this for one of them to get up and go for what felt like such a long period of time.

"C'mon, Maura, you gotta go," Jane said. "You love to travel, don't you? And haven't you been saying all year how much you've wanted to go back to Paris for a visit?"

"Yes, but—"

"Maura, you need to go," Jane whispered. "If for no other reason, what excuse would you give your dad?"

They were both thinking about it: Maura couldn't lie, and Desmond would certainly need a reason for why Maura wouldn't want to spend the holiday abroad. Somehow she figured "I want to be with Jane" wouldn't be a strong enough argument. She was sure her mother might have intervened on her behalf, but there could be no avoiding that her father would be suspicious and wonder why it was such an issue. Wanting to stay back would be too much of a change of character for Desmond to ignore.

When Maura didn't say anything, Jane tried to continue while painfully aware that her mother was hanging on her every word: "Maybe it'd be good, for both of us. Give us time to think about … biology!"

"Bi…is your mother there?"

"Mm-hm."

That explained why she wasn't getting into more detail. "Isn't there another phone you could use?"

"No." Her mother would just follow her around.

"So…you want me to go."

"Of course not," Jane whispered seriously. "I just think it makes the most sense. I'll be here when you get back." _Waiting. Maybe with a clearer head_. "What time would you be leaving tomorrow?"

"We need to leave our house by nine in the morning. Jane, this doesn't feel fair. I want to say goodbye to you, at least! Don't you think you could …I don't know, sneak out?"

Jane laughed heartily, first at the thought of Maura wanting her to break the rules, but then at the notion that anyone could try sneaking out from the eagle eye of Frank or Angela Rizzoli when one of their kids was grounded.

"Hang on a sec." Jane put the phone to her chest and turned to Angela with her best sad, puppy dog look. "Ma? Maura's going out of the country with her family for the holiday. They're leaving tomorrow and they're gonna be gone till after New Years. Can she please, _please _stop by on their way out tomorrow morning?"

Generally the rule was that friends weren't allowed over while a kid was grounded, but taking into consideration the circumstances and Jane's humble begging, Angela couldn't bring herself to turn Jane down. So that night, Maura packed her suitcases feeling as though she were in a daze, and Jane hardly slept a wink.

While Jane usually slept in on Saturdays, she was up and dressed by eight o'clock, as were her parents. The doorbell rang in the middle of breakfast, and Jane hopped out of her seat, followed quickly by Tommy. She snapped at him to beat it, but he insisted that he wanted to say goodbye to Maura, too, and with Angela right on their heels, Jane couldn't very well tell him that she wanted this to be private.

She swung open the door, and Tommy said what Jane was clearly thinking: "Wow, Maura, you look great!"

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Maura thanked Tommy but kept her eyes on Jane. She was dressed in a pink skirt and white sweater, with a long traveling coat and a white headband. Her parents were waiting in the car with their driver, and the engine was on, prompting Tommy to guess that Maura didn't have time to grab a bite of breakfast inside.

"I'm sorry, but no," she said, finally glancing at him. Her eyes quickly reverted back to Jane. "I just came to say goodbye." She shook her head and looked past Jane, where Angela was hovering. "Thank you, Mrs. Rizzoli."

Angela just nodded.

"Well," Maura said in a thick voice, and Jane was stunned to see she was on the verge of tears. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Jane said, smiling an effort to boost Maura's spirit. "I'll see ya next year!"

Maura laughed, a few tears coming out, and Tommy backed away awkwardly. He was no good with emotional girls, and goodbyes were bad enough anyway. With a shrug at his mother, he returned to the kitchen to ensure Frankie didn't steal the rest of his flapjacks. Jane tried to communicate as much as she could with just a look, knowing there wasn't much she could say in Angela's presence that she wanted to. Mostly she just prayed that Maura understood Jane wished she didn't have to go, but she also wanted to reassure her that the distance wouldn't change anything—and besides, it was only temporary.

"I suppose it's only three and a half weeks," Maura said. "But I feel as though that will be an eternity without you. Time seemed to crawl before I had any… any friends."

"Aw, it's no time at all," Jane said. "Send me a postcard, all right?"

"Sure, Jane," Maura said, laughing at Jane's determination to remain optimistic. But the smile dropped and she flung her arms around Jane's neck. Jane hugged her back, and Maura had never been embraced so closely in her life. It made her gasp a little, and she tightened her grip. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too," Jane replied in a pained whisper. She kissed Maura's cheek and said so quietly that Maura almost missed it, "I love you."

They pulled apart, and with definite tears in her eyes, Maura squeezed Jane's hand and mouthed the sentiment back to her. She dashed back to her family's car, where Constance had scooted across the seat so Maura could be by the window facing the Rizzoli's house. Jane leaned against the doorframe, rubbing her arm as she watched Maura's car drive away until it was out of sight. Once it had disappeared from view, she turned to go back into the house, looking utterly dejected as she thanked her mother and went back to the kitchen.

Regardless of what Jane had said, she knew three and a half weeks would go by slower than molasses. Long as it was, neither she nor Maura ever could have imagined how much of a changed person Maura would be upon her return.

* * *

**A/N**: A lot of time, sweat, and stress went into getting this out, so please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter! I really do appreciate when you guys take the time to do that. It helps a lot :) **Also** before you ask... yes, I mean Maura will have changed in what will ultimately be a good way. ;D


	32. It's All in the Game

**A/N**: Okay, so this chapter ended up going places I didn't anticipate. I have to say, that is sometimes fun with writing. I hope you guys are cool with it.

* * *

After the Isles' car drove off, Jane went straight up to her room, ignoring Angela's remark that she hadn't finished eating yet. Jane quietly shut the door and went to sit on the window sill, pulling her knees up to her chest and sighing wistfully. Had she been rash in encouraging Maura to go to Europe? It had all happened so quickly, and just seemed to be the most sensible thing. Like Jane had said, Mr. Isles would've wanted a good reason for his globe-trotting daughter to turn down Paris at Christmas.

But three and a half weeks! How had she so casually tossed it off like that? It was nearly a month! A month without seeing each other, without speaking on the phone, without even getting to write each other (how long _did _it take for a letter to get to Paris, she wondered?). This would be hard enough if they were still just friends, but the more Jane thought about it, the more she knew they were at a very crucial juncture. Immediate communication would probably have been nice.

_She's gonna meet some gorgeous girl over there, someone who's not some sorry coward. Someone who can make her happy all the time and not be so selfish. Someone who's classy and intellectual and maybe not so boyish. Someone who knows what they both want and can handle it…_

Jane didn't hear the knock on the door, meaning she wasn't able to ask her mother to please go away rather than come in. Instead she got caught a little off guard when Angela peeked inside and said, "Jane! You look as though Christmas was getting cancelled!" She tested the waters and stepped timidly into the room.

"Might as well be," Jane mumbled, picking at a mark on the window.

"What was that?"

Jane sighed—a long, aggravated sound Angela felt she had been hearing far too much lately. "It's nothing, Ma," she said in a louder voice. Her head felt as though it weighed a ton when she lifted her cheek from her knee to rest her forehead on the window.

Angela pursed her lips, not content to leave it there, but also wary of proceeding. This was how their conversation started the other day, when Jane had exploded and ran off: she'd said it was nothing, when very clearly, something was the matter. It wasn't in Angela's nature to be reticent, so she decided to throw the dice again. _Maybe if I just approach it another way_, she thought. Jane hadn't told her to leave yet, so that was an encouraging sign, right? Or was it sad, like Jane didn't even care anymore? Angela walked further into the room, finally leaning on the other end of the window sill. She gently touched Jane's foot, but Jane continued to stare morosely out the window.

"Sometimes I don't know what goes through that head of yours," Angela said. "Most of the time, in fact. So I don't know _why _it is you think I'm always trying to figure out what's got you down. Tell me, Jane. You're always so agitated, like I've got a gun to your back when I just ask a simple question. Why do you think I care so much?"

"Twelve hours of labor?" Jane asked, only half-joking, "Wanna check up on your investment?"

"Honey, don't do that. Don't joke. You're my kid, and you're always gonna _be_ my kid. That means I get to care about what you're going through. I used to tell my mother everything! Heck, I still do! Why… why can't we have that, Jane?"

For the first time, Jane heard what Angela had really been asking for years: _why don't you love me?_

She almost laughed. She'd wanted to ask the same thing for as long as she could remember.

When she finally spoke, she sounded tired. "Ma? You know that I… you know I love you, don't you?"

Angela beamed. "I love you too, baby."

"So don't worry about me. It's just… y'know, teenage stuff. You always said you thought girls ought to be dramatic, so here I am being dramatic." She shrugged.

"Yes but, what's the drama about, Jane? That's what I want to know. I care. And that doesn't help!" she added when Jane sighed loudly again.

"Ma, you said the other day that you remembered how it felt to be my age. I know you and grandma talked about everything, but wasn't there _ever _anything you just wanted to put in a diary someplace? Something you never felt like talking about to anyone? It wasn't anything bad," she said quickly, "Just… private. Something you had to keep to yourself for a while."

With that, Angela looked dismayed again. "I don't understand you, Jane," she said. "I've always been an open book. But if you've resolved not to tell anybody, I guess there's really nothing I can do to make you open up." She left it there for a moment, giving Jane a chance to speak up, but there was no response. Resigning herself to her daughter's silence, Angela patted Jane's leg and straightened up. It'd been a while since she'd been in Jane's room, she realized. It was a little cleaner than usual, which was nice. What was this on the nightstand? A wallet-sized photograph. "Jane? Where is this from?"

Jane looked over her shoulder and got quickly to her feet. "Oh, um, we were at a… um, it was just a photo booth."

The tiny picture had been torn from the top of the strip Maura had collected from the photo booth at the fair in Concord. She and Jane were both smiling broadly, and Jane grinned every time she saw it. For a while it had been shut in her drawer to keep it away from prying eyes, but it was such an innocent picture, there was no reason for that. Besides, she liked being able to just look over from her desk or her bed from time to time to see it. It soothed her. Sometimes when she left the house, she'd slip it into her wallet. It always brought a smile to her face to see it when Maura wasn't around.

"You look beautiful," Angela said softly, and Jane didn't fight her on it. Both of them knew Jane hated posing for photos, and it almost always showed. "See, Jane, _there's _that beautiful smile we don't hardly get to see in pictures! There is it!"

"Yeah Ma, I know. Why do you think I keep it lying around? Physical evidence of my ability to convince you I'm capable of being happy." _Or looking it, anyway_.

Angela gave the photo a little wave before setting it carefully back down, treating it as if it were something holy. "You're going to miss that girl while she's gone, won't you?"

This sigh was more winsome than the others, and Angela noticed that as Jane sat down on her bed, her eyes didn't leave the photograph. "Yeah. I will. She's the... best…" _thing that ever happened to me_. "…friend that I've got. I guess I won't hardly know what to do with myself till she gets back!"

"Maybe you can get more hours in at work?" Angela suggested. "You go in today?"

"At three."

Around 2:30, they left the house so Angela could drop Jane off at work before her errands. She checked the mailbox as Jane got into the car, and was surprised by what she found there. Sitting in the passenger seat of the car, Jane wondered what could have her mother looking so confused as she stared at this envelope and walked slowly towards the car. When she got in, Angela wordlessly handed it over to Jane and started to drive. There was nothing on the front but Jane's name, done in the most beautiful calligraphy she had ever seen.

"Gosh, it's from Maura," Jane said, knowing her mother would ask. "That's sweet of her, she started writing to me before she even left! She must've put this in the mailbox before she knocked this morning…"

_Dear Jane,_

_It's after three o'clock in the morning, and I can't sleep. I wish I had your 'guts,' as you would say—I wish I had the courage to climb out my window and come find you, come be with you tonight. I haven't been able to focus on anything else since we got off the phone. I want to be with you, constantly. You just make me feel so much, and you make me feel so good about myself. I don't know how I'm going to manage these next few weeks without you._

_I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable when I told you I loved you, but I was just being honest. You know I can't lie. If you're overwhelmed by my admission, know that I'm feeling just as overwhelmed by it! But I think this must be how it feels to be in love. Nobody makes me happier, or sadder, or sillier or more fun than you do. Everything feels amplified. Nothing is safer or more comfortable than your arms. I get a thrill every time I make you smile. _

_I will think of you every hour of every day that we're apart. That isn't so much a promise as it is a statement, a hypothesis I have every reason to believe will pass the test. I hope our time apart can be productive and on some level, perhaps, enjoyable—I hate to think of you being miserable. You are so strong. You inspire me. Don't let me down. I look forward to my return and hearing about all the wonderful things you've done over the break. _

_Please__ know how much I absolutely love you, and how hard it is for me to think of being without you. I am doing my best to soldier through this, as I know you will. I adore you, Jane. I love you. Please think of me while I'm away. Please don't forget or dismiss how far we've come. You are the light of my life, and I don't think I could bear it if that light was extinguished in any way. I would find a way to get on, I suppose, because I'm used to being alone. I just don't think I could trick myself into believing I prefer it anymore._

_Eternally yours, _

_Maura_

"Is something the matter?" Angela asked, noticing that Jane was brushing tears from her eyes.

"Just a nice letter, that's all," Jane sniffed, folding the envelope and carefully tucking it into her pocket. "Maura's a sweet kid."

If Angela were the type to have any self-control at all, she might have paused before veering into her next point. As it was, "I've never seen you let anyone hug you before." Jane tensed, immediately knowing that her mother was referring to the embrace Jane and Maura had shared that morning. "Not even Joey, when you'd actually bring him over for dinner. You never looked fully comfortable with his arm around you."

"Gee, and that didn't make you think that maybe I was unhappy in that relationship?" Jane grumbled.

"I just figured you didn't like to make a public display of things!" Angela said back. "You've always been a very private person, Jane. You pride yourself on being this tough, non-girly kid, and that's hard for me! It's hard for me to have a daughter who doesn't like the same things I do, and doesn't show her emotions like I do, like I was raised to do and like I've tried to raise her to do! And then along comes this kid," Angela said, almost laughing. "And you spend hours on the phone with her, and you _hug _her, and you cry over her!"

Jane was trembling. This was the type of rant she was sure warranted some kind of response, but unlike most times, she wasn't sure what exactly her mother was trying to get at here. She sounded aggravated, not suspicious. There was no way she could actually be thinking the truth, was there? _Not a chance. No way. She'd never think it about someone in her family. She probably doesn't even know girls like me exist. _

"Ma, Maura hasn't got a lot of friends," Jane finally said, mostly hoping to fill the foreboding silence. "And her parents don't appreciate her the way they should."

"Nonsense! I've met Mrs. Isles, and she was very nice."

"_What?!_ When did you meet Maura's mother?!"

"For goodness' sake, Jane, calm down!" Angela cried, glancing over at her agitated daughter. "It was _weeks_ ago, after she let you spend the night at their house on a weekday. I wanted to thank her."

Jane wondered if there were any tricks to get a person's heartbeat to slow—she'd gone into full-on panic mode at the thought that Angela and Constance had talked after Maura had confided in her about having kissed Jane. Now that she thought about it, though, it was a pretty silly idea. If Angela had been told that her daughter was kissing another girl, Jane would have definitely gotten the hundredth degree about it by now.

"She's _nice_, Ma," Jane said. "She and her husband just don't give Maura very much attention. And she's a little odd, y'know. Beats me why she decided to try and be my friend, but I'm kinda the only one she's got. I figure it's sort of my responsibility to… you know… be there for her. She hasn't got any siblings to talk to, or do stuff with. I didn't hardly have a choice in getting so close to her." (Which was true, to a degree. When it came to Maura, Jane felt like her willpower was increasingly nonexistent.)

"Oh," Angela said softly. "Well. That must be nice for you to feel like you have a sister then, hm?"

"Right," Jane muttered. "Yeah." _That's exactly it_.

Thankfully, they reached Skylark then, and Jane jumped out of the car without another word. Work went pretty smoothly (if not boringly) for the first few hours, and then in walked Roxie del Rossi. It marked the first time since Jane's training day at the club that she and Roxie had actually been there at the same time. The end of her shift was nearing when Roxie waltzed into the dining area with two of her girlfriends. All three of them were laughing, and Jane watched nervously as Roxie exchanged words with the hostess. And there they were, getting seated in Jane's section. (Which, of course, Roxie had made a point of asking for.)

As Jane walked over, Roxie could see the panicked confusion in her eyes: she was trying to figure out if Roxie's friends were like her, or if they liked men. To Roxie's knowledge, both were happily married, one not even aware of the existence of Roxie's lifestyle.

"Hi, kid!" Roxie chirped.

Jane looked caught off guard, thinking maybe for propriety's sake, Roxie might've pretended not to her. _Roxie? Propriety? That was stupid of me_. "Um, hello, Mrs. del Rossi."

"Mrs. del Rossi, oh, isn't she cute?" Roxie laughed to her friends, and Jane's ears burned. "I suppose you've gotta be formal on the job, huh? Girls, this is Jane Rizzoli, an old pal of mine! Her father served with Adamo in the war."

"Hiya, kid!"

"Hello, Jane."

"Hello," Jane mumbled back.

"Jane, these old birds taught me everything I know about being a WAC," Roxie said. "They saw real action in Korea. Stories that'd curl your hair—erm, not… that I suppose yours needs it. Anyway," she said, as Jane self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I suppose it wouldn't make for very fitting dinner conversation."

"W-well, it sure is an honor to have women such as yourselves in our establishment," Jane said, nodding at Roxie's friends, who smiled back. "I hope everything's to your liking."

As her pals perused the menu, Roxie turned her catlike grin on Jane, and Jane felt about as safe as a fox with its foot caught in a hunter's trap. "So! Jane, have a chance to read that book I leant you?"

The hunter had cocked his gun. Jane glanced at the other women, but they didn't seem to be paying any attention. "Yep," Jane said stiffly. "Do you want it back?"

"Oh no, honey, it was a gift!" Roxie said. "You uh, go ahead and consult it as much as you want or need."

"Great, thank you," Jane slurred.

That was gratefully the end of Roxie's verbal teasing. She kept Jane on edge for the entirety of her stay, though, and capped it by blowing Jane a kiss on her way out. Jane flushed and just prayed that nobody else in the crowded room had seen it. Mostly she was angry with herself for not having the backbone to ask Roxie to please back off. Usually, aggression wasn't a problem for her. She supposed it had something to do with Roxie being the first person to ever call her out on her feelings, but that felt like a pretty poor excuse. Was it? Maybe she just needed to find a way to respond to Roxie's flirtatious nature, so she wouldn't feel like a horny, pathetic twelve-year-old boy after each of their interactions.

Angela picked her up promptly at the end of the day, and after the perfunctory "how was work?" "fine" exchange, she decided to broach a new subject: "So! Any cute boys work at the club?"

Jane would've yelled out if she hadn't thought the outburst would startle her excitable mother off the icy road and into a ditch. Dating Joey had been the only way to get Angela to stop pestering her about boys, and apparently they'd been broken up long enough by now that it was time to bring the subject up again. There was no good way around this question; it always ended in an argument, because invariably, Angela refused to let it go at just one reply. After grinding her teeth, Jane answered truthfully:

"There's only girls on the wait staff, Ma."

"Well, what d'you do on your breaks?"

"Homework. In the locker room, where it's quiet."

Angela made some sort of disparaging noise. "Well honey, I'm sure you could be using that time to socialize a bit, couldn't you? Maybe go to other parts of the club, see if any cute coworkers are around?"

"Oh, I see. Because getting pinned is more important than graduating high school with a decent grade point average, right?"

With an impatient sigh, Angela slowed to a stop outside the police department. "Don't put words in my mouth, Jane, that's not what I said."

"Yeah it is! You just told me not to waste time doing homework when I could be flirting instead!"

"You can do schoolwork at home, or Maura's house—God knows you spend enough time there! Jane."

"Ma, stop! I hate getting into this with you—why do you have to keep pushing it, _why?!_"

With the car now parked, Angela turned fully in her seat to look at Jane. "Because! Honey, I just want to make sure you're taken care of."

Ignoring the softened tone her mother had used, Jane barked, "I'm seventeen, Ma! Are you trying to marry me off already?"

"Well no, but don't make it sound so ridiculous! I was eighteen when I married your father!"

"That is great, Ma! It's great! I'm so glad that's what you wanted to do with your life, but it's not what I want to do with mine, yet!"

"Jane, it's just—you're never gonna get married if you don't start learning the proper way to treat boys your age!"

A uniformed policeman walked past the car, and for the first time, Jane realized where they had stopped. "What, Ma, you wanna throw me in prison 'cause I'm not killing myself over this?" Jane asked. Spotting a familiar face, Jane opened her door a bit and waved. "Hey! Hey, Officer Korsak!"

He chuckled as he walked down the steps. "Hiya, kid! How's Jo doing?"

Jane ignored his question and held out both her wrists. "My mother would like me locked up, sir."

"Jane!" Angela hissed.

Korsak only looked amused. "Uh-oh. Let me guess. You put a tack on your brother's chair?"

"Oh, much worse than that, sir. My gentleman caller and I visited splitsville almost two months ago, and I haven't picked up a new beau yet. Without a strong hand to keep me in line, I'm afraid I'm just hopeless! Who knows _what _crazy teenage shenanigans I might get into?"

Angela leaned over Jane. "Officer, please ignore my daughter. Her sense of humor isn't exactly the most tasteful." She shot Jane an annoyed glare.

"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Rizzoli," Korsak said cheerfully. "You here for your job interview?"

Jane's eyebrows shot up at this, and Angela's expression turned slightly guilty. "Er… yes, sir. Do you think Jane and I could have just a minute first?"

"Sure! Take your time. Stanley's in no hurry."

As soon as he turned away, Angela shut Jane's door, as Jane was too shocked to move. Her mother wanted a job? This was more than just getting away from the topic of boys; this was downright fascinating. "Ma? You know, I think Uncle Rob was just joking when she said your disposition would make for a good police lieutenant."

"Shut that smart mouth, Jane."

"Ma. Why do you have a job interview?"

"Well, if you _must _know…I may have overdrawn my allowance on Christmas shopping."

Jane couldn't help groaning. This happened every year, and she wondered why her father still got surprised over it. "Already, Ma? It's only the second week of December!"

"Yes, your father pointed that out already," Angela said, resisting the urge to rub a part of her body that still felt a bit sore. "He said he thought it'd help me appreciate his hard-earned money more if I went out to try and make some myself."

"But you can't do anything," Jane said blankly.

At this, Angela looked genuinely hurt, and Jane felt instantly guilty. "Jane!"

"Well—Ma, I mean you can't type, can you? Or do shorthand? What else could you do at BPD?"

"I have worked, little miss!" Angela said hotly, not ready to deviate from this point. "Or do I have to remind you of all the hours I put in at the Flagman factory during the war? During each one of my pregnancies, mind you! I worked every single hour I could spare, and I even asked your grandmother to come stay with me so she could watch you kids for a few hours a day! I couldn't work full-time, no, but I _worked!_"

"Yeah, Ma, I know. I've heard the—"

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli, don't you roll your eyes at me, dammit!" Angela nearly shouted, and that got Jane's attention. Her mother never swore. "I can do things! I can contribute to our community, to our country! And you better _wake up_ if you think being a wife and mother is easy! I don't get paid! I don't get overtime, or sick days, or vacation! I put in a full day every day of the damn week, and I don't complain about it because I like it, and I have had it up to _here _with your disdain for it!"

Jane's voice was gentle, apologetic: "Ma, I never—"

"You dismiss it like it's nothing! When my country needed me to, I worked for pay. When my family needed me, I worked for them! Now I need to bring in a little income, so all right! It's just something I need to do, Jane, and I'll do it. Because I _can_. I'm going to go in there and _get _a job, and _get _paid, and maybe _then _I'll get some of the respect you seem to reserve only for your father."

"Ma…"

"No," she said, and Jane felt harrowing guilt for the tears in Angela's eyes, a guilt so deep that it stayed put even when Angela said, "I can't deal with this with you right now, Jane. I'm going in there for my interview. If you don't think you can cool off in the meantime, you walk home right now. I don't want to drive you back in this mood."

With that, she got out of the car, closing her door as loudly as possible. Jane slumped down in her seat, feeling like she'd just been gutted. An argument between them had never ended like this before, with Angela the one stalking off in anger. Their conversations usually weren't this candid, either; Jane never felt like she could be totally honest, and Angela just seemed to ramble uselessly. It sounded like now, Angela was accusing Jane of not respecting her, and it had never occurred to Jane to put it in those words.

_Do I respect my mother? _

Not "respect" in a manner of being an obedient child. "Respect" as in revering.

_I don't._

_Why don't I?_

The realization made Jane feel colder than she already was. Most girls respected their mothers, didn't they? Most girls saw the examples their selfless mothers laid out for them, and wanted to emulate it. Jane never had. And furthermore, she'd been taking her mother's service for granted all these years.

It was too much to think about right now. Jane got out of the car and started walking towards Frost's place. She moved fast and made good time, only to remember that Frost worked on Saturday nights. He wouldn't be home. Disappointment brought her down even further, but she really didn't feel like going to her own house yet. She wanted to avoid Angela for as long as possible, and had no idea how long or short her interview would be. Frost had told her his house was her house, and that she was welcome to go in the back if nobody was ever home. She knew his mother would be working as well, and thus didn't bother knocking on the front door. Instead, she slipped into the house to borrow their phone and call home.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey Frankie, it's Jane. Can you do me a favor?"

"_Sure! What's shakin', bacon?"_

"Uh…Ma and I had a bit of a fight on my way back from work, and she's…" Jane wondered if Frankie knew Angela was trying to get a job. Probably not, if she hadn't known, either. It'd most likely be best to let their mother tell him, if that was the case. "She's on an errand, and told me to walk home. So I went to Frost's."

"_Right, Frost's_," Frankie said a little uneasily. "_You want me to tell her that's where you are when she gets home?"_

"Nah, you should probably say I'm at the Carelli's. Their phone line went down last night, so Ma can't call to check up and verify."

"_Ha! Good one, Jane. When d'you think you'll be home?_"

"I dunno. An hour or two, probably. See ya, Frankie."

"Bye!"

Jane hung up and wondered what she ought to do in the meantime. Glancing at a clock, she figured Frost would probably be home within the hour, unless he worked a really late shift tonight. She couldn't quite keep his Saturday from his Sunday schedule straight in her head. Ultimately she decided to go downstairs by the furnace, where the two of them had played many a card game in the winter. They'd even fallen asleep down there a couple of times, lying on an old mattress that apparently Frost's father would use when he and his wife fought—which, according to Frost, had been a lot. Working abroad had apparently done wonders for their relationship.

As Jane lay down on the old mattress, she idly wondered if she and her mother would do better with a long-distance relationship. _Probably not. She'd probably just be all the nosier, because she wouldn't be able to see what I was doing every day. How's she going to handle it when I go to college? If I get in anywhere, that is…_

Jane closed her eyes, pulling a ratty old blanket over herself and tucking her legs up. Apparently Frost had been very attached to the blanket as a child, but when it started getting holes in it (courtesy of the now-deceased family dog), his mother had wanted to throw it away. Frost had rescued it from the trash bins and kept it down here, something Jane tended to tease him about.

She missed him now, though. She felt pathetic. He was working and Maura was away, and Jane felt like she had nobody to talk to. Sure she could complain with Frankie and Tommy about their mother, but she was wary of trying to go too deep with them there. They wouldn't understand. Their lives were open doors. She wished so badly that she had a phone number for Maura; she didn't care what the long distance fees were, she'd have happily paid them herself just for a chance to talk to her.

_It hasn't even been a day yet, Rizzoli. You saw her this morning, and you're already thinking of all the dough you'd shell out just for a phone call? You're pathetic! How're you going to make it through three and a half weeks?!_

The warmth of the basement and her tiredness eventually got to her, and Jane dozed off. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she woke up, but she still felt exhausted. It was probably time to start heading home. Jane stretched and got to her feet, thinking it would probably be a good idea to remove her shoes the next time she took a nap. As she walked up the stairs, it was the first time she noticed they were carpeted, and she wondered if she could convince her father to do that for their own wooden stairs. It would help muffle the creaks whenever she was later than curfew and trying to hurry to her room.

The basement stairs opened up into the sitting room, and Jane thoughtlessly opened the door wide, and froze instantly at what she saw.

Frost's mother, Camille, was straddling her friend Robin on the couch. Both were still dressed, but Camille's shoes were off and her hands were still tightly gripping Robin's shirt collar as their attention was instantly diverted to the basement door. They'd broken apart fairly quickly, but Jane had seen enough to know exactly what was going on, and Camille knew there could be no talking her way out of this one.

Still, she gamely tried. "Jane!" she said, her voice as weak as her legs as she quickly tried to stand up. "I d-didn't know you were… Barry's at work, honey!"

"I know," Jane said, nervously looking at Robin, who appeared entirely capable of silencing a person if she had to. "I'm—I'm, I—don't worry, I'm going!"

She ran out of the house, and Robin vaulted to her feet. "Jesus Christ, Camille! What was that kid doing here?!"

"You met her before, she's one of Barry's friends! I don't know what the hell she was doing here when she knows fine well he works on Saturdays, but—listen, honey, Jane Rizzoli's not a gossip, she—"

"_Rizzoli?_" Robin said. "Cam, her mother's got the biggest mouth in this town!"

"How do you know her mother?"

"We worked on parachutes together at Flagman's, and she yammered about every man, woman, and child in the district! If that kid so much as—Camille, we've got t—you've got to go stop her! She'll tell your son!"

Camille stepped into her shoes and ran for the front door. She had no idea where the Rizzoli's lived, but maybe she'd be able to catch Jane on the way to her car and beg her to stop and talk. Just getting to the front porch she already felt breathless with nerves, but then she spotted Jane kneeling on the corner of their very small yard. The sun was gone, but a streetlamp provided all the light Camille needed to see Jane's dark figure slouched against the snow. Confused, Camille slowly approached Jane the way she might a wild animal, wary of making her jump and run.

"Jane?" she said quietly. "Jane?" She decided to test her luck and kneel next to Jane, a decision she immediately regretted when the snow clung to her stockings. Jane didn't say a thing or move, or otherwise acknowledge that Camille was there. "Jane, I… I don't know what to say. Please, honey. I … that was…"

The truth was she really _didn't _have any idea what on earth to say. She and Robin were usually so careful, but they'd been slipping up lately. Barry had nearly walked in on them twice. Anna, the girl he liked, had come knocking once when Camille and Robin were right on the other side of the front door. But tonight, she'd been so sure—he'd be working, all his friends knew it, and Robin's divorce had just been finalized. They'd been in too celebratory a mood to stop and think, and Camille couldn't remember the last time she'd been so head-over-heels that her logic went out the window. Now one of Barry's best friends had seen them and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what was going on. How was Camille supposed to proceed from here? Tell Jane it wasn't what she thought? Tell her not to say anything? Tell her it was a mistake?

Before Camille could even try to articulate anything else, Jane turned towards the woman and buried her face in her neck, wrapping her arms around her.

* * *

**A/N**: I promise to catch up with Maura next time! Till then, your feedback is always appreciated! :)


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